


paint me in trust

by themoongirl



Series: paint me in trust [2]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: (not robbe or sander), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, M/M, One Night Stands, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Vampires, i will be adding tags as intense stuff comes up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 116,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoongirl/pseuds/themoongirl
Summary: “What are you looking for, Robbe?” Sander tilted his head, moving closer.“A rush.” Robbe whispered, his lips brushing Sander’s.Robbe Ijzermans has spent the better part of two years chasing the need to feel real again. Though being an adrenaline junkie is hardly a healthy coping mechanism, it’s one of the only things he has left.Sander Driesen is a vampire with an unspeakable, dreadful past that won't seem to leave him.When Robbe gets roped into Sander’s life he finds the feeling he has been chasing all along. But Sander's world has a different kind of risk, and it forces them to come face to face with the greatest danger of all. Fear of a life without the other.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Series: paint me in trust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748029
Comments: 121
Kudos: 353





	1. rebel rebel

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: 
> 
> \- grief/mourning
> 
> \- self harm, but it's very minimal. robbe gets up to some dangerous activities and there's brief description of him enjoying pain.

“I’ll go first.”

Robbe’s friends were looking at the water below like it was their oncoming doom, and maybe it was, but Robbe was already stepping back in preparation to make the jump. The cliffs edge was cold beneath his bare feet.

“Come on, someone has to.” Robbe continued.

Jens shook his head, his black hair bouncing against his darker skin tone. His best friend was used to Robbe’s fearlessness, a catharsis for the way his life had stripped any control he felt he had left.

Moyo, dark skinned and a buzzcut, barked out a laugh. “God, he’s insane.”

Aaron looked the most fearful of them all, a head full of dirty blonde curls being tugged with shaky fingers. His eyes widened. “Wait,” He unlocked his phone, a water-proof case protecting it. 

The four of them were at the highest point of the cliffs. It was a rarity for anyone to jump from this high. They were all only in swim shorts, the wind smacking them in the faces. The water roared beneath them, anything but inviting. To Robbe, it was perfect. To Robbe, it was a call to a home. The danger winked, a teasing smirk for only him. It set his bones on fire and made the air catch in his throat long before he jumped. It was opening its arms to him. And when Robbe felt like this there was nothing stopping him.

Aaron was now holding his phone up to record. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Jens placed an arm on Robbe’s shoulder. Robbe shrugged him off. “Did we come up all this way just for you to back out?” Robbe asked him.

Jens looked away, thinking. After a moment he shrugged. “Alright. Go.”

Robbe didn’t hesitate. 

He pushed his feet harder into the dirt beneath him as he sprinted forward. And then he was falling, falling, falling. The air made a whistling sound in his ears as he fell, his heart doing that wonderful thing where it felt like it was flying up his chest, through his esophagus and out of his throat. God, he never wanted to land. He wanted to keep flying. The air was completely knocked out of him and he closed his eyes, waiting for his body to join the waves.

He gulped in the air right at the last second as he crashed through the water. 

He froze floating underneath the surface. The quiet engulfed him, the water making everything feel like it was in slow motion. The adrenaline was soaking through his skin, slowly joining the water around him. The lack of air to his brain added to the familiar feeling of uncertainty, screaming at him to stop. It was always a battle. Adrenaline vs. logic. 

He immediately gasped when his head found the oxygen above and everything became loud again.

He heard cheering from above. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and floated there, craning his neck to look at his friends who were punching the air and yelling their congratulations. 

It took the others a few minutes to gain courage, but eventually they all jumped too. Robbe sat off to the side where the water met land and waited for them. They swam over to join him and shook the water out of their hair like rabid dogs. This was the worst part for Robbe. When the adrenaline started wearing off. 

“Round of drinks?” Moyo asked, holding up his pinky and giving it a kiss. Jens and Aaron mimicked him and then Moyo was raising his middle finger instead.

“Yeah,” Jens clapped his hands together. “Robbe?”

Robbe shook his head. “You guys go on without me.”

Moyo rolled his eyes. “It’s Friday, dude. School can wait.”

Robbe waved him off. “I’m going to stay here for a bit.”

Jens was eyeing Robbe. He had known Robbe the longest and also happened to be the only one that knew the importance of this day. Jens clapped Moyo on the back. “Let him be, come on.”

Aaron playfully shoved Robbe as he walked past. “See you later?”

Jens looked at Robbe before joining them. “Let me know when you’re back?”

Robbe nodded. He heard Moyo mutter, “The fuck is his deal?” As Jens ushered them to walk away.

Robbe sighed with relief that he was finally alone. He sat down on the rocks and crossed his legs, leaning back on his hands. He watched the water crash against the shores and the mountains in the background peer down on them. He felt a pang in his heart as a distant memory nagged at his brain. A memory of a road trip with his mom when they got lost in the mountains with no service. They had spent the entire time laughing at their own foolishness, and suddenly, Robbe couldn’t help the way his eyes were watering.

It had been two years since she died. Two years to the day. Two years since she left a note for one person. For Robbe, apologizing for leaving him behind. 

Robbe moved in with Jens after that. His dad had left many years prior and Robbe felt an anger toward him that was rooted in his core. He finished his final year of high school living with Jens and his family and then they left to go to the same college in Antwerp. It was there that they met Moyo and Aaron. To them, the risky games were simply a fun time on the weekends. To Robbe adrenaline chasing was a lifeline. To Robbe, the feeling that the world was barely attached was just as essential as sleep, and water, and air.

The adrenaline addiction came shortly after Robbe’s mom committed suicide. He had snuck out of Jens’ house to go skateboarding alone at 3am, finding comfort in the loneliness. There was a hill a couple of blocks over that was so steep no one dared to skate down it. Robbe didn’t remember how he got there, only that when he got close, he suddenly didn’t know how to stop. The feeling that sparked in his heart as he soared down the hill made him feel something for the first time since he’d gotten the call that she was gone. Of course, he wiped out almost immediately and had a nasty scar (one of many) on his leg to prove it, but it was the start to a very long list of life-threatening idiocies. 

Robbe aggressively rubbed at his face to pull himself out of the memory. He gripped his brown hair in his fingers and tugged until the pressure became his main focus. It was still relatively short, but long enough now that the curls would hang on his forehead. 

Above all else, Robbe felt like he was in a constant search for something. Chasing the feeling that his heart was seconds away from souring out of his chest, the pounding so aggressive he could feel it in every corner of his being. Chasing the sheer need for his world to feel real again, even just for a moment.

The first time Robbe saw him was this day.

A scream abruptly forced him out of his head. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, when he saw a figure in the water ahead of him. He couldn’t make out who they were. His eyes wandered up to the cliff that he had previously jumped from to find another figure. This one caught his attention.

He was pale, his white skin sticking out against the darkening sky. He had icy-white hair to match. He was skinny, but by no means frail looking. That was about all Robbe could make out from the distance. Well, that, and that the guy had turned his head to look at Robbe. 

Robbe squinted, trying to make sense of the situation. The person bobbing in the water started yelling. “Come on, Sander!”

‘Sander’ was still looking at Robbe. Robbe looked back, feeling frozen.

Finally Sander turned his attention to the water. He jumped.

Robbe watched him all the way down, his fall so graceful it appeared to be happening in slow motion. He was a deer running through a meadow, a ballerina twirling in the air, a dolphin diving into the sea. He was as graceful as he was curious. 

Feeling very self conscious of the fact that he was sitting there alone, Robbe abruptly stood up and walked away, the blonde’s stare like a hot iron on his back.

\---

When Robbe’s head felt as heavy and overwhelmed as it did, his first instinct was to throw himself into school work. In fact, the only reason he had gotten to go to college in the first place was because of a scholarship earned simply from high grades. When Robbe’s mom died his teachers had offered him all kinds of deadline extensions yet Robbe didn’t need a single one. When things were bad it helped to disappear into homework, something Jens had vocalized his confusion for many times.

And around this time of year that was exactly the case. It took him a few days of feeling the grief like a stab wound over his heart, fresh and unassuming. Jens stayed quiet in the corner of their cramped dorm room and didn’t flinch when Robbe stayed in bed until 3pm. By Monday he was yearning to get drunk, poor timing at that. So instead he went to the library with Jens, needing to escape in the periodic table.

This also happened to be the second time he saw him.

They were sitting at a table by the window looking out at the campus. Students were hurrying past to get to class, bags in hand and headphones over their ears. Jens hadn’t even bothered to take his laptop out, hunched over the desk and mindlessly scrolling on his phone. He had his hood up and looked to be nursing a hangover. Robbe hadn’t joined him the night previous, choosing instead to spend it fighting tears. By morning he was feeling better, finally feeling his brain clearing, the sun shining a light on the grief sitting with his soul.

Robbe took his eyes away from his laptop to stretch his neck out when he spotted a flash of blonde hair.

He was standing by one of the book shelves wearing a leather jacket and a green duffel bag over his shoulder. He appeared to be in the historical fiction section, but his eyes weren’t on the books.

They were on Robbe.

Robbe quickly looked away, cheeks burning red. He awkwardly cleared his throat and went back to looking at his screen. Although, that proved to be difficult because Jens was smirking at him.

Robbe furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You’re disgustingly obvious.”

Robbe looked back at his screen. “Mm? What do you mean?”

“And a terrible liar.”

Robbe rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

Jens shook his head and went back to scrolling through his phone. Robbe fought the urge for several seconds until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He looked over at the shelves again. The blonde was staring at the books a little too carefully. Robbe didn’t understand how the whole library didn’t have their eyes on him. He looked like he belonged in a dream, his ice-cold hair practically glowing all on its own. His leather jacket screamed _danger_ , a known cliche but different when he was wearing it. It was inviting Robbe in, his hair reminiscent of waves that curled into the shore, daring him to take a risk. And Robbe loved risk. 

He felt a pull that he couldn’t quite explain.

The blonde smirked to himself, eyes frozen on the books before flashing his eyes up to meet Robbe’s again. This time, Robbe’s eyes remained, curiously tilting his head. His eyes were electric green sending a jolt through Robbe’s system.

Robbe only managed to tear his gaze away when he heard Jens tsk-ing. 

“Sander Driesen,” Jens teased. “I’m not surprised.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone does, he’s in third year,” _Jens_ knew everyone, it was his thing. “He seems to have eyes for you, though. I can name at least ten people whose hearts just broke.”

Robbe shrugged, pretending to be uninterested as he brought his attention back to his laptop screen. “I’m not looking for… you know, anything serious.”

Jens snorted. “Obviously,” Jens had a front row seat to Robbe’s one night stand life. “But I mean, he keeps looking at you.”

Robbe just sighed. He was certain Sander was out of his league. Robbe hadn’t actively sought someone out in years. It was always by chance at parties that he ended up making out with a guy and going home with him, only to feel indifferent the following morning. He dealt with his sexual urges like he did his adrenaline. Very quickly. 

When Robbe looked up again, Sander was gone.

Robbe pulled his hood up on his grey hoodie, covering his head. 

“Hey,” A feminine voice interrupted his staring into space session. When he looked up, it was none other than Yasmina, biology partner extraordinaire and welcomed distraction. Their partnership had started because of a sheer need to get the higher grade than the other. A competition since day one. With brunette curls hanging in waves to her shoulders, dark skin, eyes that could kill a person with one look, and a walk that had people parting like the red sea, Yasmina was a Muslim girl and a force to be reckoned with.

Robbe offered a small smile as she stood in front of their table. “Hey.”

Jens nodded at her as well. They had met once or twice before. Yasmina was friends with a girl named Jana that Jens was making it his mission to sleep with. 

“Just wanted to let you know that I handed in the assignment,” She leaned a hand on the table. 

Robbe’s eyes widened. The assignment. “Shit- sorry. Sorry I completely-”

“I know,” Yasmina looked understanding. “I figured you had something going on…”

Yasmina was also an angel at heart, and Robbe barely missed a deadline. He looked down. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Yasmina waved it off. “Seeing as my grade is higher than yours…”

Robbe shook his head, a smile slipping into his features. “You wish.”

Yasmina started to back away, looking between Robbe and Jens. “See you guys this weekend?”

Jens nodded. “Is Jana-”

Yasmina rolled her eyes and turned around. “Maybe.” She walked away.

Robbe raised an eyebrow at Jens. “And you called me disgustingly obvious.”

\---

A college week like this one was truly the worst. Robbe spent everyday waiting for the weekend, his itch for excitement crawling on his skin. He spent a couple of evenings skating at the skatepark with Jens, Moyo and Aaron. The feeling of flying through the air numbed the itch for an hour or two, but it was back the minute he was alone. 

Thankfully, this was college. And at college there was rarely a weekend without a party.

That weekend also happened to be the third time Robbe saw him.

He was at a popular club that was known as a hangout for the students at their college, Jens, Moyo and Aaron laughing obnoxiously at his side. They had already had three rounds of shots with another on the way, and they were standing around a table in the corner as they gulped down beers. The music was pounding in their ears, the lights were going wild, and Robbe found peace amongst the chaos. The hammering of the beat against his heart and the alcohol loosening him up was enough to satisfy him. 

Which is why when he spotted a flash of white hair leaning against a wall he felt a yearning deep within his bones that he had spent the better half of the week burying. He tried to tell himself that it was just loneliness that could be solved by a night out with his friends and a possible hook up. But then Sander’s eyes flashed up to meet his again and it felt like someone had dipped his head in ice cold water.

And what really got the adrenaline pumping was when Sander leaned his against the wall behind him and sharpened his gaze. Robbe didn’t understand how he kept finding him in a room. 

His heart started racing faster than the bass-heavy beat of the music. 

Robbe hadn’t realized Sander wasn’t alone until a brunette was snapping in Sander’s face, his eyes snapping down to look at her. She had long curly hair and-

Oh, it was Yasmina.

He watched as the two of them chatted for a few minutes and couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be in her place. He wanted to know what it felt like to have those eyes stare into him from up close, to hear what his voice sounded like. Moreover, they both seemed to stand out amongst the crowd of rowdy college students messily downing alcohol, the stench of weed wafting through the air. Yasmina threw her head back at something he said. The winter green eyes found Robbe again. The world around him seemed to tilt.

Their stare was cut off by Yasmina’s face suddenly in front of him. Robbe blinked for clarity, not understanding how he had missed her walking over.

“Hey Robbe,” She nodded at him. “Jens.”

“Hey Yasmina,” Jens slurred as his hazy eyes looked beyond her. “Jana-?”

“She’s over with Amber.”

“Amazing.” Jens downed his beer, slapped Robbe on the back and disappeared into the crowd. Robbe watched him go and couldn’t help but wonder at his confidence. Jens always got everyone’s attention while Robbe watched quietly at his side. When Jens was in the room, the eyes were on him. When Jens wanted something, he went and got it. Jens most certainly didn’t shoot his shot by hopeless stares across a bar.

With that thought, Robbe’s eyes wandered back to where the blonde had been standing. He was gone. And Robbe’s chest deflated in disappointment.

Now Yasmina was snapping in his face. “Earth to Robbe?”

He blinked, looking back at her. “Sorry, I’m a little drunk.” It was a part of the truth at least.

Yasmina saw right through him with a perfectly raised eyebrow. “Mhm, and you were wondering who I was talking to before.”

“I mean-” Robbe stuttered. “Maybe?” Robbe lied, embarrassed at how absolutely everything he felt was shown on his face.

Yasmina grinned. “White hair? His name is Sander.”

Sander, the guy from the cliff jumping place. Sander, the guy from the library. And now Sander, Yasmina’s friend. Sander was there with his pale complexion and confident stance and crinkles beside his eyes and Robbe felt _want_ in every sense of the word. 

“We go way back,” Yasmina started. “You want to meet him?”

Robbe panicked. “No no, uh, not now?”

Yasmina laughed, the water in her cup jostling around. “Are you nervous?”

Robbe felt himself shift on his feet, his past a rolling tape of film unraveling in front of him. Dating was out of the question. In fact, it was so far from a possibility that he hadn’t once considered it since the end of high school. Not when he was waking up in a stranger's bed to leave before the boy next to him opened his eyes. Not when he made out with someone in a dirty bathroom, or tried Grindr. He hadn’t considered it when a hookup forgot his name, or when they remembered his name and asked to see him again, he just never considered it. No one made him feel enough. Not one person. The sex was the only part, the only flame that went out immediately after. And it made him feel worthless. It made him feel broken. But with Sander? It was his eyes. His eyes were making Robbe’s palms sweaty and the room turn. And better yet- they weren’t looking away. He simply could not talk to him for the first time like this. Already on the way to _gone_ and smelling like every-bad-hookup he’d ever had. 

“Just not tonight,” He finally said. “Okay?” He willed her to understand. There was something about Yasmina, an empathy, a trust that he hadn’t shared with anyone other than Jens. And even Jens struggled to fully get him.

She squinted her eyes, thinking. “Okay. But I’m not going to let this go.”

\---

And she didn’t.

A few days later Robbe was sitting down in their Biology class, shrugging off his brown jacket and headphones when Yasmina abruptly sat down beside him. She had her hair tied back and slammed her bag down on the desk in front of them.

“Hello to you too,” Robbe greeted her, taking out his laptop. 

“You want to come to a party?” Yasmina asked, looking far-too proud of herself.

Robbe raised an eyebrow. “Uh, always?”

“Good,” Yasmina placed her hands on the desk and sat tall. “It’s with a few people that don’t go here- uh, you’ll see. But Sander is going to be there, and I got you an invite.”

 _Oh._ Oh no.

“Yasmina that is not what I thought you meant-”

“Why are you so scared?” Yasmina drilled into him with her eyes. “He doesn’t bite.”

Robbe nervously fiddled with his hands. “No- but, who are the people you invited? Is it fancy?”

Yasmina’s hesitation was enough to have Robbe spiralling.

“Yeah, no, nooo way.”

“Robbe please-”

“Not a chance.”

“You can bring, I don’t know, bring Jens! Then you will know one person.” Yasmina looked desperate. “Come on I already told him you were coming-”

Robbe’s jaw dropped. “No you didn’t.”

“I did,” Yasmina was back to smirking. “He’s excited.”

“He’s-,” Robbe’s eyes widened. “He is?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, but- he has no idea who I am.”

“Yes he does.”

“He-”

“Your staring is becoming increasingly obvious.”

“Fuck.”

Robbe rubbed his face in stress. There was so much to unpack here. First of all, Sander aside, he was not meant for a fancy party. Yasmina looked like she belonged on a fashion runway with her Gucci jacket and expensive car and an aura that screamed money. Robbe had only seen Sander from afar but he gave off a similar vibe. He was always wearing the same leather jacket but it was more in the way he held himself. It was his cool expression and proud stance and carefree nature that showed he hadn’t had to worry about money a day in his life. And if both of them were going to the same party? Robbe was bound to stick out like a sore thumb.

Robbe could fit everything he owned into a backpack. He got into college on a scholarship and aside from that he had next to no money, only a small amount that his mom left him with. But he had to ration that for food or he would be going hungry by second year. Jens was always offering to pay for groceries and buy Robbe’s alcohol when they were out, and Robbe had no choice but to say yes more than half of the time. Otherwise he would be poor and lonely and he could not have that. He had the same brown jacket from high school, two pairs of shoes and jeans, and only a couple more shirts that he cycled through. 

So no, he would not be fitting into this _soiree of sorts_.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s really not fancy,” Yasmina could read his mind. “Really. You could wear what you’re wearing today. I promise.”

Robbe was avoiding her gaze. Thankfully, the professor started the class, saving him from answering. He couldn’t pay attention. Not when Yasmina had yanked Sander to the forefront of his mind. Not when he was back to swimming in the green’s of Sander’s eyes and the possibility of seeing them a little bit closer was within his grasp.

He knew he was going to that damn party. 

\---

Perhaps Robbe’s brain had spiralled farther than need-be but that didn’t stop his nerves. The sun was freshly set and the lights of a rather massive mansion were on full display for Robbe and Jens as they joined the other twenty-or-so parked cars.

“This is the place?”

“Yes.”

“Check that the address is correct. There’s just no way.”

“I told you, Jens. It’s fancy-fancy.”

“Okay, I believe you now.”

Surrounding the residence were tall trees, vibrant in their colour, and a pond that had fish swimming in it. What stood out most were the windows. The entire exterior, just clear glass. There was no pavement. They had to drive through the dirt and grass to get to where everyone else was parked. The music could already be heard from the car that Robbe and Jens were currently gaping in. 

Robbe was wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt, feeling that that was the easiest way to look like he tried. Jens was wearing a maroon dress shirt, his hoop earring dangling against his neck. Robbe felt very average next to him. He always had.

Robbe spotted Yasmina at the door. She waved.

“Well, here we go.” Jens got out of the car with ease.

Robbe followed him as he worked on calming his quickening breaths.

Yasmina greeted them both with cheek kisses and winked at Robbe. “Glad you could come.”

Robbe smoothed down his shirt as they followed her inside. There were a lot of people, but they weren’t dressed as rich as Robbe had anticipated, although he still found himself avoiding eye contact. They all held wine glasses close to their chest. Robbe couldn’t spot a single person that wasn’t visibly stunning. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior, decorated very chicly. Robbe got the vibe that the owner had only recently moved in judging by how minimalist it was. The living room area was perfect for parties like this, stretching from the front door and following a huge open space in front of them, a grand staircase near the back. To the right was the kitchen where Yasmina was leading them. 

Once inside they were met with thousands of euros worth of alcohol on the island in the centre. Maitrank, Faro, Dubbel, Black Russians. Yasmina told them to help themselves. Robbe poured himself a shot with shaky hands and immediately downed it. Jens was only allowed one beer throughout the course of the night, as he was designated driver.

Yasmina rubbed at his back as a girl practically came bursting into the kitchen with a confident pep in her step and a pleasant smile. She had short blonde hair, bright eyes and was wearing high waisted jeans and a black blouse. She had red stilettos on to match her bold red lipstick and she strode over to the wine without missing a beat.

“Hi!” She greeted as she poured a glass. “I’m Zoe, Yasmina was telling me we all go to the same college?”

Jens leaned in to greet her with a kiss to her cheek as he introduced himself. Yasmina placed a hand on her back as she nodded over to Robbe. Zoe took a sip of her wine as she smiled at him, her bright white teeth clinking against the glass.

“So you’re Robbe,” Zoe winked at him. “Yasmina’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, _has_ she?” Robbe shot a look at Yasmina. She snorted.

Zoe turned back to Jens. “There’s actually someone who wants to talk to you out there.”

Jens looked way too pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Zoe laughed. “Walk right out of the kitchen. Red hair. Red dress. You’ll know immediately.”

She didn’t have to tell Jens twice. He was immediately leaving the kitchen. Robbe shook his head and cracked open a beer.

“Jana is going to be interested to know how quick he was to act,” Zoe narrowed her eyes and leaned against the counter. 

Robbe raised an eyebrow.

She held her hands up in defense. “Kidding.”

They hung out in the kitchen for a few minutes, Zoe and Yasmina asking Robbe all kinds of questions about everything and anything. He avoided any questions about his past, trying to shift the conversation. He wasn’t about to deal with the looks of pity. Zoe was also in first year, he learned, and she had known Yasmina in high school, where they also met Milan, the owner of the mansion. He liked to throw elaborate parties like this often.

Robbe was so caught up in a story about this Milan character when a hand was suddenly brushing his back. He turned his head immediately to be met with-

Sander.

He was looking like a dream. His black David Bowie shirt was matched with a long sleeve underneath it, and if that wasn’t enough to scream ‘art student’ then the black doc martens were. Seeing Sander up close was making Robbe’s brain rewire, and while there was plenty of room in the kitchen, Sander had still brushed past Robbe and let his hand linger on the small of Robbe’s back for longer than necessary. Robbe had to hold back a shiver. Seeing Sander up close was making Robbe’s brain rewire, his green eyes more sensitive than the leather-jacket wearing persona wanted to exhibit. And yet, Robbe couldn’t look away. 

Sander leaned his elbows on the island beside Robbe and looked at Yasmina. “Milan is asking for you.”

Yasmina nodded, smirking at Robbe. “I’ll go see what he wants…”

Zoe had a similar expression. “I’ll come with you.”

Robbe was going to have to hold back on committing a murder the next time he was alone with Yasmina. He followed her with his eyes as the two girls left the room. Robbe cleared his throat and looked down at his beer, studying the liquid swirling along the top of the lid.

Sander held out his hand. “I’m Sander Driesen.”

So he was formal.

“Robbe.” Robbe shook his hand. It was ice cold. “Uh, Ijzermans.

Sander reached for the vodka, pouring two shots. He pushed one over to Robbe and held up his own. Robbe picked it up and mirrored him.

“Cheers.” Sander downed it. 

Robbe did as well. The party going on outside of the kitchen dulled to a background noise as Robbe suddenly felt more comfortable and settled. It might have been Sander’s funny way that he downed the shot (putting his whole jaw into it) or because Sander seemed to smirk at the way Robbe’s face scrunched together at the taste, but either way. His hands weren’t fidgeting anymore.

“Come,” Sander grabbed a six pack of beer and nodded his head towards the door. “I want to show you something.”

Robbe followed him through the kitchen and out into the party. A few of the guests were watching him follow Sander with pointed gazes, and he wondered briefly if they were confused at the pairing. He knew Sander looked like some sort of god next to him. Surprisingly, Sander led him upstairs. The music was getting quieter and quieter the higher they climbed, and eventually they entered a bedroom. Robbe narrowed his eyes. The room was almost completely empty except for a large bed up against the wall in the corner. Sander didn’t pay it any attention as they headed straight to the balcony. 

Sander was bringing out an already rolled blunt from his pocket and a lighter as Robbe closed the balcony door behind them. The air was refreshing and Robbe immediately felt more relaxed away from the crowd. He needed some of that weed before he could even begin to feel comfortable in a crowd like the one downstairs.

Robbe mimicked Sander’s position, elbows rested on the railing as they looked over the edge. Sander took a drag of the blunt and offered it to Robbe.

“Thank you,” He said as he took it, fingers brushing. He inhaled, closing his eyes at the familiar feeling of his lungs welcoming the smoke. His head swam as the alcohol hit his body.

He took one more puff before handing it back to Sander. He felt surprisingly comfortable, although a little in disbelief. Sander looked like a painting.

“So,” Sander let the blunt rest between his fingers as he blew the smoke out of his mouth. “You enjoying the party?”

Robbe shifted on his feet, breaking eye contact to look at the view beneath them. The trees seemed to go on forever. “Yeah, it’s great.”

Sander had a teasing smirk on his face. “Mmm, very convincing.”

Robbe lips twitched into a smile. “You think?”

“Now tell me how you really feel.” Sander grabbed the beer he rested on the platform and passed one to Robbe, who took it as Sander opened his own.

Robbe didn’t want to offend. “It’s… I’m just not used to it. That’s all.”

“Most people aren’t,” Sander said. “First year, right?”

Robbe nodded. 

“Did Yasmina tell you about the house?” Sander asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“That it belongs to a guy named Milan? That’s about it.” Robbe recalled.

Sander nodded, turning his head to look at Robbe again, searching his face.

Robbe stared back, Sander’s vibrant green eyes challenging. “How does a college student afford a place like this?”

Sander laughed, shaking his head. “His parents have money. And he graduated, he’s a nurse now.”

“Damn.” Robbe frowned, his face feeling heavier. The drugs and the alcohol were hitting him fast, making him a little more confident. “I’m assuming your parents have money too?”

Sander raised his eyebrows in defense. “Do I look like I fit in with them?”

“Yes.”

Sander was searching Robbe’s face. His expression was playful. “Mmm, observant. That’s dangerous for me.”

Robbe recognized flirting when he saw it. He turned from the ledge so that he was facing Sander instead of the view, but kept one arm on the cool metal. “I don’t think I’m the dangerous one here.”

Sander took a step closer, his eyes roaming to Robbe’s lips. “No?”

“No.”

“You might be correct.”

“Except,” Robbe poked his chest. “You’re up here with me. So maybe you are a little different.”

Sander brought the blunt up and hovered it in front of Robbe’s mouth, raising an eyebrow. Robbe didn’t look away from his gaze as he slowly put his lips around the end and inhaled. Sander’s pupils were widening. Robbe slowly blew the smoke out, and it hung in the hair in front of them. Robbe had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

“You saw me cliff jumping that day,” Sander tilted his head. “That was you, right?”

Robbe nodded, hoping Sander didn’t think he was strange for sitting there alone. “I watched you jump.”

“I watched _you_ jump.”

Robbe furrowed his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Pretty high up for someone like you.”

Robbe took another step forward. “Someone like me?”

“Small,” Sander teased. “Fragile.”

Robbe snorted. He was about to respond when Sander raised his arm to trail a finger down Robbe’s arm. He eyed it, bringing forward his other hand to raise it in front of him and inspect it. Robbe had many scars across his body from various adrenaline-chasing incidents, his arms were no exception.

Robbe let him trail his finger over them, the touch rather soothing against his warm skin. The alcohol was warming him up.

Robbe never would have let anyone else do what Sander was doing right now. There was something too tender about it, too delicate. But Sander had a face that was hard to say no to. 

He let go and Robbe brought his arm back to his side. He didn’t step back though, if anything he swayed closer. Sander stayed frozen for a few seconds before looking back at Robbe, his expression turning back to teasing.

“So you’re an adrenaline junky,” Sander was looking at his lips again. 

“You jumped too.” 

“I did,” Sander said. “What does that make me?”

“The same.”

Sander laughed darkly as he hovered over Robbe. He was only an inch or two taller. “We’re not the same.”

Their faces were very close. His lips were very close. Robbe didn’t take his eyes away from Sander’s but he tugged at his shirt, squeezing it into a ball in his fingers. There was something in the air between them, inviting them in. It was magnetic. It was easy. Robbe had never felt so immediately comfortable with someone, a feeling in his throat that jumped with excitement.

“Prove it.”

“What are you looking for, Robbe?” Sander tilted his head, moving even closer.

“A rush.” Robbe whispered, his lips brushing Sander’s. 

And then Sander kissed him, hungry and sudden and desperate. Robbe immediately opened his mouth, Sander’s tongue finding his. The blunt dropped to the ground and Sander was pulling Robbe closer, his hands finding Robbe’s curls and tugging. Robbe made a noise low in his throat and squeezed Sander’s shirt between both hands. Robbe’s body and mind were hardly attached as he moved his hands under Sander’s shirt to feel the now-warm skin. He felt desperate to discover him, as if there wasn’t enough time in the world to do so.

And Sander was trying to cover every inch of Robbe’s back, hands cupping his hair and then his shoulder blades, moving down to hold his hips. Robbe had never had someone be so suddenly interested in getting to know his body, so obviously in need of his touch. It was as if Sander was learning every curve, every freckle, every bone. 

They were both breathing heavy. Sander pulled away from Robbe’s lips to trail kisses along his neck. Sander seemed to pull back for a moment, his breath hitting the skin over Robbe’s throat. Robbe froze, moving so his neck was even more exposed and Sander melted into the kisses that he started placing there. Robbe shivered, feeling raw and vulnerable and willing to give Sander anything he needed.

But the moment didn’t come, because someone was calling Sander’s name somewhere below. 

Sander pulled away, his lips swollen and looking completely gone. The alcohol and drugs had darkened his eyes and Robbe knew he was in the same boat. Robbe just stared at him, having no idea what to say, and then Sander was leaning in again. He placed a tender finger under Robbe’s chin, lifting his head up and planting a chaste kiss to his lips. 

Then he walked away.

Robbe had no recollection of how long he stood there feeling like he had been visited by a ghost.

By the time the weekend was over, Robbe was fucked up. 

In every sense of the phrase. He had never felt so in need of something in his life. Sander was like a 3am storm, his wind wild and eccentric but also alleviating. He didn’t think those two feelings had the ability of complementing each other. But with Sander they did. Robbe needed to get this out of his system, it was as simple as that. Perhaps it was the challenge, the way Sander’s eyes roamed from Robbe’s lips to his neck as if he was surveying the damage he could do with his mouth. Whatever it was, Robbe knew that he needed to see him again. Curiosity would kill him if he didn’t.

The remainder of the party was a complete haze. Robbe had stumbled downstairs to find Jens telling him that it was time to go. Apparently the redhead that Jens had met had wanted to sleep with him, but out of respect for his growing crush on Jana he had politely declined. That was only after making out with her for twenty minutes on the dance floor. It was just Robbe’s luck that she had a boyfriend who came close to fighting Jens, and they were pulled apart after that by Sander and another dirty blonde. There was a weird vibe in the air. Robbe couldn’t care less, he felt agitated that Jens was the reason his time with Sander had been cut short.

By Sunday night his body was practically begging him to take it easy. And he did, to a degree. He swapped out the mind altering substances for something a little less reliable. 

Robbe took advantage of the lukewarm weather to skate around campus. The rush of the wind made his eyes water and his ears were covered by headphones that blasted away his thoughts. Or, they tried. Between the quiet of every song was the feeling of a delicate hand on his chin. Between every pause at a streetlight was pressure on his lips. When his eyes wandered up to the moon resting in the sky he was reminded of the glow of white hair. 

He found himself souring down another steep hill unexpectedly. The thrill of the feeling of his stomach dropping caused a smile to break out over his face. He reveled in the distraction from the moon when he saw the green’s of Sander’s eyes in the pine trees that seemed to be the only tree still thriving, autumn fast approaching. 

Robbe dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands and turned up the volume on his phone. A bad idea at that, because it sent him falling forward and wiping out onto the pavement. 

He groaned as he rolled onto his back. He stilled for a moment, waiting for any intense flashes of pain, and when none came he sat up. He appeared to have skated into a suburban neighborhood near a paved park. The sight of an empty playground made him feel far more queasy than the scrape the fall had left on the palm of his hand. He stared at the blood, feeling at home in the sight of a mark made by another unstoppable need to feel. He had endured much worse. 

Eventually he got back on his feet, shaking off the dirt on his jeans, and skated back to the dorm. He yearned for something more. Something greater. The moon mocked him the entire ride home.

\---

Robbe didn’t have to wait long. That is, he had to wait until the weekend.

He was back to his usual territory. A party at a second years house filled with cheap beer, an overwhelming amount of drugs, and a booming top forties playlist that made his ears throb. The contrast between this and the ‘event’ at Milan’s house was astonishing.

Robbe had just finished doing a shot with the boys, the alcohol resulting in a throat on fire and a rabbiting heartbeat, but there was something else there. And it wasn’t just the pill he had slipped under his tongue an hour ago. It was a flash of bleached blonde hair near the door.

Sander was walking into the chaos with Zoe and Robbe was certain he couldn’t be the only one thinking they stood out like sore thumbs. They both looked like they had stepped off a private jet, Zoe in a black blouse and big hoops and Sander with his hands shoved in his leather jacket, a look on his face that gave off the impression he knew more than anyone there. But Robbe wasn’t just _seeing_ Sander anymore. Robbe was feeling cold hands sliding up his waist, hot breath against his lips, soft white hair between his fingers. Robbe was feeling lips graze over his neck and goosebumps making every nerve come alert. That pull was there again. The one that said _come get me_.

“Look at this guy,” Jens nudged Moyo. “He has a crush.”

The house was crowded and the four of them were standing near the back of the room, leaning against a wall. Robbe leaned his head back, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Crush?” Moyo scoffed. “Ijzermans? Funny.”

Jens was standing beside him. Robbe was too far gone to care that they were teasing.

“Look at him,” Jens said again. “He’s like a puppy.”

“Oh fuck off,” Okay, Robbe cared a little.

“Boys,” Aaron clapped his hands together. “I need more weed.”

Moyo put his hands on Aaron’s shoulders and spun him around. “Too crowded. Let’s go upstairs.”

Moyo shoved Aaron forward and Jens and Robbe followed. But Robbe didn’t take his eyes off of Sander, and he knew Sander’s would find him.

Green met brown. 

Sander winked at him.

And Robbe followed his friends with a teasing side grin, testing Sander, challenging him.

They made their way into the bathroom upstairs and somehow ended up in the bathtub as they passed the blunt around. Robbe’s legs were swung over the edge, his head rested against the back and the pain of that not fully registering yet. The boys were laughing about something and he completely missed the joke, body and mind in another dimension entirely. 

He wanted to be kissed. 

But he only wanted to be kissed by one person.

When they finished the blunt he decided he had waited long enough. He also could no longer stand their company. Especially when Sander was right downstairs.

Robbe stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed into someone. Hands reached out to steady him, and he knew immediately by the ice cold touch that it was Sander. Sander, wearing a band t-shirt with his leather jacket over top, looking to be on a similar level of _gone_ that Robbe was. His eyes were red and he smelled of weed and thick smoke. But he had taken Robbe’s hint. Sander had followed Robbe this time.

Robbe squinted up at him, taking note of the way Sander’s hands didn’t stray from his waist.

“You stalking me?” Robbe asked, tilting his head. 

“I was looking for you, yes.”

That surprised Robbe, the honesty. He was used to guys pretending like he was just an option. And he was, most of the time. They were an option for him as well. He wasn’t used to someone so blatantly seeking him out.

Sander placed a hand on the wall behind Robbe’s head. It felt like a game. The way Sander was testing his boundaries and Robbe was daring him to go farther with baited breath and a tilted chin. Robbe didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him as Sander was looking at him now. It was a game of chess. Every move was vital. The hand beside Robbe’s ear closed him in. A point of no return. Robbe liked the feeling that Sander was in control, that he had hunted Robbe down and gotten him right where he wanted him to be. Robbe was the prey. He wanted to be the prey.

Robbe stared at Sander’s pink lips. “And now that you found me?”

The tension hanging in the air was tangible. It was heavy, and warm, and washing over his skin. He suddenly couldn’t comprehend how he had spent the week knowing what it was like to kiss Sander Driesen and not doing it every second. Sander’s lips were so close, pink and full and risky. He wished he could know if Sander was feeling the same pull, the same strange allure. The one that made every nerve in his body feel like it was on fire. The one that made his skin hot and his throat dry and his hands vibrate and his heart pound. This was more than adrenaline. This was something else entirely.

Sander used his other hand to hold Robbe’s chin again. “I need to know… if this is something you want.”

Robbe furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He thought that was obvious. “You. I want you.”

Sander brushed Robbe’s nose with his. It felt delicate. “Come home with me.”

Robbe closed his eyes, Sander’s breath hot against his mouth. He needed to be kissed or he was going to die.

“Kiss me.”

“At my place.”

“Sander-” Robbe opened his eyes.

Sander’s eyes were dark again, the green suddenly replaced. 

“I’ll give you what you want,” Sander’s smile was devilish. “But I want to get out of here.”

Robbe decided that he would be patient if it meant reward later on, so he followed Sander down the stairs and out the door.

Sander’s apartment wasn’t a far walk from the party and the two of them stumbled their way down the street. The journey did nothing to sober Robbe up as he kept letting out uncontrollable, drunken giggles whenever Sander so much as swayed. As soon as they got inside the apartment lobby and the elevator closed them in, Robbe gripped Sander’s jacket in his hands and pushed him against the mirrored walls. Sander pressed his own lips together and brought a finger up to Robbe’s. 

“We’re not home yet,” Sander teased. “Almost.”

Robbe groaned as the door opened and Sander kept a hand on Robbe’s back as he led them out of the elevator and down the hall.

Even in Robbe’s drunken state he could recognize how exquisite Sander’s apartment was. It was a two bedroom, two bathroom but Sander lived there by himself. A beautiful balcony looked over the world beneath them. Sander had multiple bookshelves, some for books and some for records. He also had Bowie albums hung on the walls and a grand piano in the corner of the living room. And- the living room, well, Robbe was surprised to see that he had plants all throughout. On the tables, standing tall against the walls, and a clean kitchen with an island in the middle. 

Robbe only had a second to gawk before Sander was gripping his collar and pushing him against the wall, tongue immediately in his mouth. Robbe became lightheaded as time slowed down and his hands shook with need and a familiar surge. 

Robbe kissed back with a similar force, although he was enjoying being manhandled. Robbe pushed back against Sander’s chest and guided him towards the bedroom. Sander giggled against Robbe’s lips as they entered the wrong room, and Robbe barely had time to register before Sander was tugging him back down the hall, their lips not stopping for a second. They fell back against the white comforter, Sander on top of him, and Sander worked on getting Robbe’s shirt off.

Robbe let Sander pull off his jeans until he was laying there in only his underwear. Sander looked down at him, fully clothed himself. Robbe’s cheeks burned in a brief flash of insecurity, something that would normally be pushed aside but even through a hazy mind he could feel it. _Why did this mean more? Why did this feel more important?_ Robbe gripped the sheets in his fists as Sander’s eyes roamed. Sander was teasing and Robbe couldn’t find the strength to keep quiet.

“Sander-”

“Shh,” Sander kissed his stomach and then trailed his lips up to Robbe’s collarbone. Sander seemed to be in awe of Robbe’s adrenaline scars lining his stomach. Soft lips kissed each one. Robbe watched him do this with dilated eyes and shaky breaths. It was the second time Sander was showing interest in something that had the probability of adding to Robbe’s insecurity but for some reason lessened it. Robbe threaded his fingers into Sander’s silky hair and kept them there as Sander found Robbe’s neck. He sucked on the skin and Robbe liked the feeling of being branded. He arched his back and let out a whine, tightening his grip in the white hair.

“Fuck,” Sander groaned into Robbe’s neck, the word laced in intent. Robbe was impressed that Sander was able to form words at all in a time such as this, Robbe’s own mouth muttering out noises of need. Robbe couldn’t remember the last time sex had felt like this, like he wanted to revel in it. Like Sander wanted to revel in it. Like each moment held importance.

Sander’s lips were back on Robbe’s lips, and their mouths fell open on reflex.

Robbe pushed back against his lips, moving until Sander was sitting up straight again. Robbe was sitting up as well, and he unbuckled Sander’s pants. Sander helped him until they were both naked and exposed. Sander’s hair was all over the place, his pupils full, his swollen lips parted with need. It was seeing Sander- composed, coolheaded-Sander shaking and undone that had Robbe knowing he wouldn’t last very long. And it was seeing him like this that sent a second wave of confidence to Robbe’s ego. Robbe pulled Sander on top of him and gripped his face in his hands as he sucked on his bottom lip. Sander moaned into it, and the sound had Robbe shaking.

Robbe had never felt so pent up in his life.

It was messy, and quick, and Robbe let himself be guided by every one of Sander’s touches, feeling completely immersed in him. They were both fucked out of their minds by alcohol and drugs and sex and Robbe felt every insecurity wash away in lust. His skin was on fire, the rush that Sander provided for him was unlike racing down any hill, or jumping off any cliff, or burn on his skin. 

\---

The euphoria didn’t last long.

That is, it lasted until morning. 

Robbe woke up to an empty bed. The sheets were a crinkled up mess around him, he was still naked and his mouth was as dry as sandpaper. His head was also a battering ram against his skull. 

The room smelled like sex, and the most real thing in it was the sudden regret.

This wasn’t new. This was every situation he had found himself in for the past couple of years. This was sex. This was giving himself to someone. This was him acting on sexual impulse.

He sat up, fighting the nausea and wave of spiraling thoughts. He wrapped the sheet around him and hobbled over to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He looked how he felt. His hair was sticking up in all directions, a red rim surrounded his eyes. He had dark circles and hickies on his neck. Robbe groaned. His brain was doing that thing. The thing where it told him that he was completely worthless.

This was feeling all too similar. This was every one night stand. He gets drunk, and high, and so does the other guy. He goes home with them. They fuck. And then, he wakes up alone. He wakes up to an empty bed and hurries to throw his clothes on and leave as soon as possible. The only difference now was that the flame was still burning, and that’s what scared him the most. His brain was flashing back to his cheek rested against a chest, a sleepy sigh as his hair was lightly played with, cool skin feeling nice against his newly worn-out body. His heart was aching. He couldn’t be this for Sander. It might break him.

But last night had been a dream. He remembered it. Oh, he remembered every moment. Sander taking him to the finish. Sander’s euphoric expression when they finally collapsed against the sheets. He remembered the kisses that made him feel safe and-

And at home. 

This wasn’t right. He couldn’t be just sex to Sander. He couldn’t be.

Robbe drank some of the tap water before turning around and rushing to find his clothes. He felt grimy in them. They still smelled of smoke.

He walked out of the bedroom to find Sander out on the balcony. He was leaning over the edge and he hadn’t spotted Robbe behind him. Robbe took one last look at him, yearning in his heart, and walked out the front door.

When he got back to an empty dorm room he grabbed his towel and headed for the communal showers. He thanked his lucky stars that it was empty and he let himself do nothing but stand under the water for a few minutes. His skin itched. Anxiety was squeezing his heart as he hugged himself close. He was crashing hard. He reached for the shower tap and turned it towards the heat. His heart sped up. He turned the tap more. His skin burned. A rush.He turned it all the way until he had no choice but to step back. He breathed heavily and knelt there, covering his face as he came down from it. 

Every time Robbe did this he told himself it was the last time. The last time chasing a high that would never be enough. The last time drinking. The last time smoking. A common joke between him and Jens and just about every young adult was “I’m never getting drunk again” after a rather brutal hangover. In this case, “I’m never seeing Sander again” was a thought so heavy he had to push it to the very back of his brain along with the rest of his repressed thoughts. 

Robbe wrapped his towel around himself and headed back to the dorm room. He dressed in lazy clothing and fell back onto his bed. He trailed his fingers over his stomach where soft lips had previously been brushing. He groaned and covered his face. This was ridiculous. 

Robbe willed himself to stop thinking about Sander. 

A sour attempt at that, but he tried. He tried as Jens came barging into the room an hour later with greasy food and Robbe shrugged off going into detail about his night with Sander. He tried as they eventually shut off the lights and Robbe had to force his brain to be quiet in order to get any amount of sleep. 

And he tried as he went to class the following week.

Never, in Robbe’s entire life, had he felt this lack of control over his thoughts about another person.

There were a few one night stands that he thought about once or twice afterwards, a specific moment that had him twisting in his seat. But never like this. Robbe couldn’t stop replaying every moment of his night with Sander. But every time he remembered how he left, and then his heart was sinking. 

He thought about how Sander was quite literally some sort of magician who had cast an attraction spell on Robbe’s thoughts. But that didn’t make sense either, because the facts were there. Sander had an alluring way about him. It wasn’t hard to miss. If he was in the room the eyes were on him. Robbe’s- Robbe’s eyes were on him.

It wasn’t fair, actually. Everything about Sander was made to pull Robbe in. His teasing smile that was enough to send a surge of giggles falling out of Robbe’s mouth, as if Sander did it just for that. His neck kisses that were placed with lingering lips, caring and so, so gentle. Eyes that seemed to see Robbe rather than look right past him, that weren’t waiting for the next moment but focused solely on right here right now. It was absolutely unfair. He thought the flame that usually went out post-sex was a permanent reality. He thought he wasn’t capable of holding onto this feeling, this feeling that was a match for the adrenaline he chased. It didn’t make sense.

He was pulled from these thoughts by an arm nudging him in the side.

He had forgotten he was sitting in Biology class. He had his cheek rested against the palm of his hand as he stared at a point on the wall. Yasmina nudged him again.

He sat up and rubbed his face. “Sorry.”

Yasmina was clicking her pen in her hand and twirling it around her fingers as she smiled playfully at him. “You are ten planets away today.”

Robbe ignored her. “Shh, I’m trying to learn.”

“Funny,” Yasmina replied. “How much can you process when your eyes are glazed over?”

“A lot, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Robbe could feel Yasmina’s eyes follow the useless line of his pen as he attempted to take fake notes. He gave up seconds in, dramatically dropping his pen on the desk and hunching back over. He was halfway to another daydream when-

“Hi Sander.”

Robbe immediately whipped his head around to look at her, eyes widening. 

She just laughed. 

Robbe shook his head. “Not fair.”

“He keeps asking about you.”

Robbe crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, avoiding eye contact. “You are a terrible friend.”

“How?”

“You told me you go way back,” Robbe replied. “Meaning, you should be betraying my trust by telling him stuff about me. Not the other way around.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not doing both.”

“A double agent,” Robbe nodded. “I’m impressed actually.”

“In that case,” Yasmina leaned her elbows on the table in front of them. “Tell me why you’re acting weird.”

“We are in class, Yasmina.”

“Yes, and Professor Cook is going to tell us to work on the assignment in 3...2...1…” Yasmina trailed. 

And sure enough, their professor did just that.

Robbe eyed her. “How the hell-”

Yasmina changed the topic. “So Sander?”

“No seriously-”

“You gotta learn how to read someone’s body language, Robbe,” Yasmina rolled her eyes. “Sander?”

Robbe leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He rubbed at his face to try to clear his head. He didn’t understand what Sander was doing to him. Robbe couldn’t stop thinking about the sex. But then he thought about the little details, like Sander’s laugh lines and the mole on his cheek and he suddenly felt immense regret that he had done it again. He had reduced another person to a one night stand. And Sander had reduced _him_ to a one night stand. And now he felt worthless even though it was his own fault in the first place.

His brain was a mess.

“I just want to see him again,” Robbe admitted, pretending to be unbothered as he played with a string on his shirt. “That’s all.”

Yasmina leaned her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her hand, looking at him with a teasing smile. “That’s it? Then why are you acting all bothered?”

“I kind of… left him abruptly last time, uh, the next morning.”

Yasmina feigned shock. “Horrible.” Her words were dripping in sarcasm.

Robbe groaned. “I guess I just- feel bad.”

“Cute.”

“Shut up.”

Yasmina smirked and went back to looking at her laptop. “Message him, loser. Imagine surviving a time without cell phones? I couldn’t.” She turned her laptop towards Robbe to show him the screen. “This is his Insta.”

Robbe was embarrassed by how quickly he sat up to look at the screen. His user name was _@earthlingoddity_ and he didn’t have his name anywhere on the page. Robbe couldn’t help but smile. Every couple of posts were drawings, or paintings, and everything in between was carefully curated for an aesthetically pleasing result. Robbe had so many questions about the art he didn’t know where to start. Apart from the occasional selfie (also edited) were pictures of coffee mugs and sunsets.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” Yasmina said as she pulled the phone away. “He’s a nerd.”

\---

Robbe returned to the dorm after classes to find Jens laying in bed with his textbooks abandoned beside him as he scrolled through his phone. Jens grunted in lue of hello and Robbe grunted back. Their communication was legendary.

“What day is it?” Jens asked as Robbe fell back onto his bed. Their cramped dorm room allowed for zero privacy.

“Monday?” Robbe thought aloud.

“Fuck,” Jens went back to looking at his phone. “I’m bored.”

Robbe assumed that meant that Jens, too, was yearning for a hit of something. Robbe was feeling it Sunday night. But then he was remembering Sander’s Instagram and he felt himself go on full alert.

He typed in _earthlingoddity _to Instagram and didn’t hesitate to start scrolling through Sander’s account again. His finger hovered over the follow button. Was this too soon? Was it weird? How did this make him look? Robbe pursed his lips. It was just a follow. That was it.__

__After following him he put his phone down on his chest and stared at the ceiling._ _

__Robbe’s phone buzzed. He peaked at the screen with one eye open and his heart skipped a beat._ _

_earthlingoddity followed you back!_

__Robbe debated messaging him right away. On one hand, Sander seemed too nice to think something as simple as a message was too needy. On the other hand, Robbe didn’t want to feel-_ _

__Oh, what the hell._ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ hey… sorry for leaving the other morning. i had a great time. 

Robbe groaned and covered his face with his hands after he pressed send. He was immediately overthinking this. 

__Jens piped up in the corner. “What?”_ _

__Robbe waved him off. “I’m an embarrassment.”_ _

__“I feel that.”_ _

_earthlingoddity:_ Me too. :) 

_earthlingoddity:_ How are you? 

__Robbe felt Jens eyes on him as he let out a giggle. Sander’s texting style fit him._ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ good :) you? 

_earthlingoddity:_ I’m good. Alone in my empty apartment. :( 

__Robbe just stared. He pursed his lips and looked over at Jens._ _

__“Hey,” Robbe spoke up. “If someone messaged you that they’re alone in their apartment, would you take that as a sign?”_ _

__“That means come over.”_ _

__“Great.”_ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ i have a fix for that 

_earthlingoddity:_ Join me? :D 

_sterkerdanijzer:_ see you soon 

__A half hour later and Robbe found himself standing in front of Sander’s apartment unable to knock._ _

__Was this a bad idea? Probably._ _

__Could he resist? Absolutely not._ _

__On his walk over, he thought about a few things. One, the pull he was feeling to Sander was far from normal. He hadn’t experienced this before. That alone was enough for him to act on. Two, it could be very possible that their sexual chemistry was something that would take a couple times to get out of his system. Sander was showing an immediate need to see him again which was feeding into Robbe’s confidence. He felt wanted. Three, he was sober. Now he couldn’t blame Sander’s desire for him on alcohol. Four, Robbe yearned to see him, dammit. He was being nice to himself. It’s called self care._ _

__So he knocked._ _

__Sander opened the door a little too quickly and Robbe hoped he wasn’t standing there aware that Robbe was hesitant to knock. Sander waggled his eyebrows. Robbe wondered if he owned anything that wasn’t a band t-shirt._ _

__“Welcome back.”_ _

__Robbe felt a nervous laugh escape him as Sander waved him into the apartment. He shut the door as Robbe gazed around, appreciating it more now that he was sober. The bedrooms were to his left, and in front of him was a large space with a small dining table, the cozy ‘living room’ area behind it. The balcony door was beside the couch and the setting sun added to the warm tones that the place possessed. The kitchen was to Robbe’s right, a huge room with an island in the middle of it. And the plants, Robbe hadn’t forgotten the plants. The walls were a cloud white and the floor was covered in dark brown hardwood. It was very open and bright._ _

__Sander had an album by David Bowie playing on the record player in the corner of the room, sitting atop the grand piano. Robbe only recognized it because it was one of the few songs of his that Robbe knew. Space Oddity._ _

__“Bowie, huh?” Robbe asked as he took off his brown jacket, revealing his dark green crewneck underneath. “Is that your thing?”_ _

__Sander looked down sheepishly and hopped up to sit on the small dining table. “Yeah. Been a fan since day one.”_ _

__“So what, 1960’s?” Robbe teased._ _

__Sander smirked. “Observant observant.”_ _

__“I remember you saying that was...,” Robbe hummed and took a couple of steps towards him, stopping in front of his legs hanging off of the table. “Dangerous, was it?”_ _

__Robbe’s eyes trailed to the three mugs lining the dining table, seemingly being used as decoration. They looked to be vintage. Sander saw Robbe looking and smiled, looking very innocent all of a sudden. “Mugs are also my thing.”_ _

__“How…”_ _

__“Oh, I collect them,” Sander explained. “Coffee is... also my thing.”_ _

__“Bowie, mugs and coffee,” Robbe recapped. “You’re a mystery, you know that?” Robbe tilted his head. “Anything else?”_ _

__“Cute boys in sweatshirts too big for them.”_ _

__Sander stretched his arms in front of him so Robbe closed the distance between them. Sander put his hands under Robbe’s sweater and rested them on the skin of Robbe’s back, his cold hands causing a tide of goosebumps. It was all suddenly very tender, and that alone turned Robbe on even more._ _

__But there was something to be said for taking it slow._ _

__Robbe nodded to the grand piano in the corner. “You going to serenade me?”_ _

__Sander smiled sheepishly again. “I don’t play.”_ _

__Robbe’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Then why… do you have…”_ _

__“It was a gift,” Sander’s eyes twinkled. “From my rich parents.”_ _

__Robbe shoved his shoulder playfully. “Silly.”_ _

__Sander was still holding Robbe’s waist, his thumb lightly stroking the skin. It was making Robbe feel giddy._ _

__“And you?” Sander asked. “Do you play?”_ _

__“I do.”_ _

__Sander’s eyes widened, a grin appearing on his face. “Prove it.”_ _

__Robbe’s hand wandered to one of Sander’s on his back and he grabbed hold of it. He guided him over to the piano. Sander stayed standing until Robbe tugged, pulling him down to sit beside him on the bench._ _

__Sander was watching Robbe’s face carefully as Robbe jokingly cracked his knuckles. Sander laughed, and Robbe thought the sound was prettier than anything he was going to be able to play. Robbe had learned when he was younger, first on a small keyboard and then advancing to the real deal. His mom used to play, and she taught him a little bit, but Robbe was mostly self-taught. He hadn’t played for a few years now, but it was so drilled into his memory that he didn’t even hesitate as he brought his fingers to the keys._ _

The first thing that came to his mind was _Last Leaf Falls_ by Lucas King. Robbe would never admit it out loud, but it was a source of comfort for him over the years. Music was in general. But there was something about this song in particular that helped more than the others. 

__He had played this theme so many times he could do it with his eyes closed. He could feel Sander’s gaze on his as he focused on the keys. Robbe couldn’t help the giggle and smile that escaped him. “You’re supposed to be looking at the piano. Not me.”_ _

__“I can hear it,” Sander said softly. “It’s your expressions I’m more interested in.”_ _

__“Shush,” Robbe teased, his voice also soft. “I’m trying to impress you.”_ _

__“You already have.”_ _

__Robbe continued to play and Sander let him get to near the end of the song before placing a kiss against his neck, trailing his lips along his throat. Robbe messed up the song then, a shudder causing him to falter._ _

__“Oops,” Sander placed a finger under Robbe’s chin, turning his face so that he was looking at him. “Sorry.”_ _

__He definitely didn’t look it though, and Robbe forgot all about the piano._ _

__“Guess you better make it up to me.”_ _

__“Mmm,” Sander’s dark eyes were familiar. “Is that what you want?”_ _

__Robbe tilted his head, absorbing the expression on Sander’s face._ _

__“And what do you want, Sander?” Robbe repeated the words Sander had said to him the other night._ _

__“To feel you.”_ _

__Sander trailed his hands over Robbe’s skin, up his sides and then out of his sweater, tugging. Robbe raised his arms over his head as Sander pulled the clothing off, leaving Robbe sitting there in only his jeans. Sander trailed his hands over his chest, once again admiring his scars. Sander was feeling Robbe’s warmth, his touch gentle, and delicate, and curious. Robbe let him, the whole thing making him feel jittery with need._ _

__Sander turned him around, now letting his hand trail down Robbe’s spine. Robbe’s goosebumps were fully exposed and he knew Sander was well aware of what he was doing. Robbe tried to keep still. Sander was suddenly at his ear, nipping at it. He then trailed his tongue down to Robbe’s neck and placed kisses leading from one ear to the other._ _

__He surprised Robbe by then wrapping his arms around his middle and burying his face in his neck, stopping for a moment. Robbe let him, his heart clenching. He wanted to give Sander what he wanted. It was an overwhelming urge when he was with him. Whether that was sexually or more, he wasn’t sure. But it was there, and it was obvious._ _

__Sander spun him around again. Robbe couldn’t take it anymore. He wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck and kissed him passionately, forgetting all nagging thoughts of what this meant for Sander. He needed this. He needed it like he needed adrenaline._ _

__Sander kissed back, exhaling into it. Robbe dragged him by his shirt over to the couch, tugging at said shirt next. Sander pulled it over his head as Robbe laid back. Sander was reconnecting their mouths in seconds as they struggled, need and desire heavy in the air._ _

It was better than the last time and Robbe could only revel in that once they were both collapsing on the couch. Robbe didn’t think it was possible for sex to be better without alcohol. Sander was filled with firsts, it would seem. He was handing them to Robbe on a silver platter. Perhaps it was because the lack of a drunken, hazy vision allowed Robbe to see every mole on Sander’s skin, every shudder and meaningful stare. Robbe was used to guys taking him home and choosing to take him from behind, but Sander _noticed_ him. Sander wanted to see him. Sander breathed out a laugh when they almost fell off the couch mid-sex and Robbe kissed him silly because of it. It was fiery and passionate but also... light. As if they could both just exist in it. 

__They were both naked with a blanket over them, laying sideways on the couch. Robbe had his head on Sander’s chest and Sander was holding him close._ _

__Robbe couldn’t remember the last time he had been held like this because he could hardly recall their postcoital cuddles that happened before. Now that he was sober and fully aware of what was happening, he couldn’t quite describe the feeling. It was safe. Sander’s skin was warm, a rare occurrence Robbe was learning._ _

__“I have a question,” Robbe broke the silence. “Why two bedrooms?”_ _

__Sander ran a hand through Robbe’s hair, pushing his curls out of his face. “I use the other one as an art studio.”_ _

__Robbe’s lips perked up as he envisioned Sander on a rainy night. A window open, the air warm, the smell of a storm accompanied by brewing coffee. The static of a record player long forgotten in the glide of a paintbrush. Blue and white smudges on his hands. Stillness._ _

__“Oh,” Robbe replied. “That must be peaceful.”_ _

__Sander chuckled in his ear. “Yes, I suppose it is.”_ _

__“I’ll just assume you’re very talented,” Robbe teased. “Since I’ve never seen your work in person.”_ _

__Sander lifted his head to look at the wall beside them, the one with the TV against it. “See that?” He pointed to a medium sized canvas hanging on the wall. “That’s mine.”_ _

__Robbe followed his finger. It was a painting of what looked to be an old city. The buildings were all much shorter, the people walking below and had older clothes on. Eighties, maybe. The colours were vibrant, and real, and Robbe couldn’t help but smile. It was stunning._ _

__“Okay,” Robbe nodded. “So very, very talented.”_ _

__Sander just chuckled, putting his head back down. Robbe copied him, trailing his finger along Sander’s chest. Sander looked shy and it made him look three years younger. “The only validation I will ever need, thank you.”_ _

__“What inspired it?” He asked._ _

__Sander sighed, not in an annoyed way, it was as if he had a sudden, deep thought. “Do you ever think about past lives?”_ _

__“Sometimes.”_ _

__“I had a dream once,” Sander continued. “That I had lived a past life as an art thief.”_ _

__Robbe tilted his face to look up at him. Sander was staring up at the ceiling, twisting one of Robbe’s curls between his fingers._ _

__“Rebel rebel.”_ _

__“Ah, Bowie reference.”_ _

__Robbe felt proud of himself for that one._ _

__“Any other past lives?” Robbe urged on._ _

__“Mmm,” Sander thought. “There was one, another dream, I was in college studying visual arts, like now, except I wasn’t living here. I was living in a shared house with Milan, Noor, and someone else I didn’t recognize.”_ _

__“Noor?” Robbe asked, not recognizing the name._ _

__“A friend of mine,” Sander answered. “She knows Milan.”_ _

__“Ah.”_ _

__“I also imagine I lived a past life during the French Revolution.”_ _

__Robbe giggled, surprised by that answer. “I could see you wearing a beret.”_ _

__Sander was smiling, still looking deep in thought. “One more. I’ve imagined myself living during Bowie’s prime. Getting to see him in concert.”_ _

__Robbe trailed a finger over Sander’s cheek. “He’s really important to you?” Robbe asked gently, sensing a story there._ _

__“He’s just gotten me through some tough times,” Sander looked down to meet Robbe’s eyes. “Music has that power, you know?”_ _

__Oh, Robbe knew. He soaked that bit of vulnerability right up because he could relate. It was light. Natural. Robbe meant what he said earlier. He was seeing a new side of Sander. A sober, quiet, calm side that had Robbe wanting to dig deeper into the cracks of his exterior. Robbe imagined Sander waking up on a Sunday morning and going out to the balcony to stare at the crisp morning and listen to the world around him. It was a contrast to the weed smoking, leather jacket wearing hard front he seemed to show the world._ _

__But then Robbe realized that a lot of that was an assumption based on looks. When Robbe thought back to the times he had seen Sander previously, he was always seconds away from smiling. The crinkles beside his eyes added to that. He was confident, and held himself with pride, but he seemed… shy. He kept to himself, and he loved the things he loved fiercely. He didn’t seem to have a care about how people thought of him. He loved what he loved and that was that._ _

__Robbe nodded. “Everyone has their outlets.”_ _

__“Adrenaline.” Sander studied his face. “Is that yours?”_ _

__Robbe looked away, not liking where this conversation was going._ _

__“It reminds me that I’m real.”_ _

__Sander seemed to tense up under him. Robbe went quiet, burying the images of his mom’s face that began to rise to the surface. Sander radiated electricity, if Robbe could even call it that. If Sander was the lightning storm, Robbe was the ground that he struck. Only there were times such as this, as Sander tenderly played with Robbe’s hair and Robbe let himself be held, protected, that the surge dulled to a buzzing background noise. The calm after the storm. He was so used to associating that lightning with soaring down a hill at top speed, or jumping off of a cliff, or taking pills that he isn’t sure the purpose for._ _

__Whether that was their sexual chemistry or not, Robbe didn’t want to run away again._ _

__\---_ _

__Robbe hadn’t realized that he had fallen asleep until he was woken up by a warm glow coming through the balcony door. He opened his eyes, sleepily burying his face closer into Sander’s chest and- oh, they were in the same position from the night before._ _

__Robbe lifted his head to look at Sander through bleary eyes. Sander had one arm behind his head and the other around Robbe. Sander smiled down at him._ _

__“Sorry,” Robbe apologized. “You’re probably dying to move.”_ _

__“I was quite comfy actually,” He said. “So were you apparently.”_ _

__Robbe sat up, stretching his arms forward and looking on the floor for his clothes. He froze. “What time is it?” He asked._ _

__“8am,” Sander said to him, sitting up as well. “Coffee?”_ _

__“Shit,” Robbe started pulling his underwear on. “I have class in an hour.”_ _

__“So no coffee?” Sander asked, wrapping the blanket around him and walking towards the kitchen. “I have a keurig.” He said it in a sing-song voice._ _

__Robbe couldn’t help but grin as he threw his shirt over his head. Sander looked like a burrito, completely naked under the blanket. “Ah yes, coffee addiction.”_ _

__Sander was fiddling around in the kitchen as Robbe found his phone on the dining table. He had a few messages from Jens._ _

_Jens:_ are you coming back tonight? 

_Jens:_ guess not 

_Jens:_ update pls don’t come back 

_Jens:_ jana is coming. seriously don’t come back 

__Robbe walked over to the kitchen and leaned against the frame, watching as Sander poured coffee into a travel mug. He turned his head around to look at Robbe, amusement heavy on his face. “I will never get used to these things.”_ _

__“Keurigs?” Robbe giggled as Sander put the lid on it._ _

__Sander shrugged, handing it to Robbe. “A present.” He picked up his own mug from the table and took a sip, a happy sigh escaping his mouth._ _

__“You trust me to bring this back to you?” Robbe teased as he held up the travel mug and made his way to the door._ _

__“I do actually,” Sander smirked. “You came back once.”_ _

__“Confident,” Robbe was about to open the door but Sander beat him to it, holding it open for him._ _

__Sander stood against the door frame now, wrapped in his blanket and sipping his coffee. He looked effortlessly cute and Robbe couldn’t find it in him to worry about what any of this meant. Once again, quiet buzzing was feeding on the way that Sander was making him feel. It was intoxicating, and addicting, and he wanted to kiss him but he felt like it was going too far._ _

__Sander seemed to understand as Robbe said goodbye and slowly walked away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long._ _

__\---_ _

__He didn’t._ _

__Once he gave up fighting that urge, there was no going back._ _

__They fell into a pattern after that. It started gradually. Robbe would find himself seeing a Bowie video on Instagram and sending it to Sander, only for them to spend the rest of the night messaging back and forth._ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ thought of you 

_earthingoddity:_ Ahhh! Bowie. I would have killed to be in the same room as him. 

_earthlingoddity:_ Also, you’re thinking of me? ;) 

_sterkerdanijzer:_ lol, thought. as in past tense 

_earthlingoddity:_ Impossible. You’re texting me right now. 

_sterkerdanijzer:_ you may have passed through my mind a couple of times 

_earthlingoddity:_ And what was I doing? 

_sterkerdanijzer:_ not safe for work 

_earthlingoddity:_ When am I getting that travel mug back? 

_sterkerdanijzer:_ when are you inviting me over? 

_earthlingoddity:_ Right now. 

Sander was intoxicating. He was doing more for Robbe than alcohol ever had, seeping into his veins and using jump starting cables to turn him on. His touch was enough for Robbe to melt, his words made him feel present, and he was effortlessly funny. His perfect grammar and punctuation during their many nights of messaging added to the humour, and Robbe felt giddy at the underlying tone of _cute._ He didn’t have a malevolent bone in his body, never having a bad word to say against anyone. Robbe had never even seen a flinch of anger or exasperation. It almost made Robbe’s heart ache to wonder why he was so good at staying still. 

__Above all else, he was still a mystery. Robbe learned things at surface level. He obviously learned the things he loved, and that he took those things and ran with them and used them to define himself. Bowie was important to him, his saving grace in hard times. Coffee was a friend, something to look forward to in the mornings. He loved old movies, and quiet, and he went to parties to see his friends and people watch. The alcohol was a way to turn his senses up while dulling the accompanying feelings, and Robbe had never heard it described like that. But he supposed that was why he liked it too._ _

Both of them held back from talking about their past. Sander never really mentioned his parents, but Robbe didn’t miss the twitch in his expression when he thought he might have to answer a question about them. It would almost be funny if Robbe didn’t recognize that he had been doing the same. Sander showed curiosity about Robbe’s family, but a subject change was inevitable. Sander followed suit. It was a game of back and forth. _How close can I come to reality without actually saying a damn thing?_ Instead of outright vulnerability, they found themselves wrapped up in stories of past lives, parallel universes, and fake childhoods. They were drunk off of almost-truths. It worked for them just fine, building on this label-less understanding that they could just exist and not talk about it. They were riding the grey area between friends with benefits and something a little more. But Robbe was too afraid of rejection and that alone stopped him from asking what they were, uncertain of the lengths that his paranoid brain could go. All he knew for certain was that he felt good with Sander, he felt a flame burning somewhere in him that he had never felt before. There was so much more to learn about himself and for some reason, Sander was helping. Robbe couldn’t risk losing that yet. While they’d kickstarted on sexual tension alone, or so he thought, there was something else just below the surface. Like the waves below the cliff. A peace just out of reach. He’d never wanted something so much, never needed something so much. There was a constant battle in his brain between fire and urge and ‘could be’. It rattled him to his core. 

__There had been a time after his mom died that he had tried to slow down, had tried to stop playing with fire, but the rush was too great to ignore. It was magnetic. It called to him in his sleep. Sander was a similar rush. The way he made him feel simply could not be disregarded._ _

Robbe’s mom had asked him once, _“Why do you do it? Why do you keep putting yourself last?”_ , and it felt like someone had grabbed hold of his insides and squeezed. The truth was, Robbe felt a love for the people in his life long before his mom died, and it had only grown in quiet intensity afterwards. When she was alive he loved her fearlessly, effortlessly. If he could have absorbed her sadness, he would have, just as he would have died for her too. 

__Jens was his childhood best friend and he held a similar level of importance. It wasn’t talked about but it was there. Jens had been someone to lean on during the soul crushing tides of grief, and Robbe felt a gratitude that transcended his everyday friendships. Robbe would die for Jens too if it came down to it. Jens was all he had left._ _

__Robbe Ijzerman’s world was small. He had his bag of things, he had his best friend, and he had his scholarship. Those let into his circle were chosen carefully. He didn’t have much left to give someone other than fierce protectiveness and loyalty. Those were not things he was going to throw away on someone only to be left empty._ _

__And now there was Sander. He worried he was giving too much of himself to someone who had started out as just a hookup. Because Sander didn’t have a position in his head. Sander felt like gravity, someone who could crush him with one simple conversation. This was uncharted territory. Robbe never went this far with someone. Never let someone into his bubble so abruptly and ruthlessly. But he was intoxicating. He was a drug that Robbe couldn’t get enough of._ _

__Before he knew it, a month had passed and he still hadn’t opened up about something weighing heavily on his mind. It was the middle of the night, three in the morning, maybe, and Robbe and Sander were in a weird space. There was something about laying awake in Sander’s bed, the window wide open post-sex and curtains billowing ever so slightly in the AM air, that had Robbe reaching a dead end._ _

__“It’s insane how expensive schooling is these days,” Sander said as they lay facing each other. The breeze felt nice on Robbe’s sweaty skin. He had one leg under the sheet and the other sticking out. Sander had his head resting against his bent arm, his elbow facing Robbe. Their noses were just barely brushing, and Sander occasionally reached forward to stroke a finger over Robbe’s hand, or play with one of his curls. Robbe had his head on the pillow and kept scanning his eyes over Sander’s smooth and still skin, unable to process his beauty even after all these weeks._ _

__Robbe was used to Sander’s thinking-out-loud. Sometimes he blurted out a topic without any sort of follow up. Robbe had initially spent minutes waiting for second-halves of sentences but he was now used to humming in recognition to let Sander know he hadn’t gone unheard. That last sentence though, well, Robbe felt it was suddenly too good an opportunity to resist. It was three am, and at three am, everything felt different. Open. Allowed._ _

__So he treaded carefully, but treaded nonetheless._ _

__“I’m, uh,” Robbe wrinkled his forehead. “I got in on a scholarship. I don’t exactly have money.”_ _

__Robbe wasn’t ashamed of what he lacked, at least, economically he wasn’t. In fact, it was something that he didn’t pay much thought to. Whenever he felt even an ounce of sadness about it, guilt reared its ugly head. Before she was admitted to a mental institution for her worsening health, she had done all she possibly could to keep them afloat. After she had died, every cent in her name went to her son. Robbe was okay living off of what little he had. He was okay with fitting all his possessions in a singular duffel. Truly. He just didn’t like the pity he received from Jens, or Jens family, or anyone who bothered to send a knowing look his way ._ _

__He glanced up at Sander, searching his face for that all-too-familiar judgment, but it wasn’t there. Sander hadn’t flinched. Instead, he brushed their noses together softly, and Robbe had to look back down, feeling small all of a sudden._ _

__Robbe felt a need to tell Sander rush over him. A need to share that he had spent the last couple of years drowning in grief, in anger, in a desire to feel something. But there was a block, it was the same block he felt whenever he tried to get words out. He had spent the better half of his life struggling with this. When things got tough, his throat closed up. On multiple occasions he’d had to rely on Jens’ ability to read the room as he tapped out of conversation that crossed over the line of too-personal. It was both a burden and a blessing to be so tongue-tied._ _

__Sander must have sensed it in Robbe’s body language, something that said he wanted to talk seriously for once, because he was suddenly asking: “Where are your parents, Robbe?”_ _

__He said it so gently that it broke Robbe’s heart._ _

__“They’re divorced,” Robbe spoke slowly, avoiding eye contact. “My mom is currently in a mental institution.”_ _

__The lie escaped his mouth before he could stop it, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad. In fact, he felt proud he was able to say anything at all. For now, it might just be enough._ _

__Sander froze beside him, and they sat in silence, the churn of Robbe’s gut louder than anything else in his ears. He waited, fiddling with a loose string on the sheet nervously._ _

__“Tell me about her.” Came Sander’s response._ _

__A lump formed in Robbe’s throat. He closed his eyes as Sander brushed their noses again._ _

__“Honestly,” Robbe tried to get out, knowing he was sounding like a strangled cat. “I’d rather not, right now. I’m sorry I just- it’s been… difficult. I love her, and it’s hard to… to-”_ _

__“Hey hey,” Sander spoke softly, pulling Robbe into his arms. Robbe buried his face in Sander’s neck and tried to blink away the tears, holding his breath. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”_ _

He breathed in Sander’s neck and exhaled slowly. There it was again, Sander’s immense understanding of him. Sander stilled. Robbe took that as a sign to work on calming his racing heartbeat. Sander didn’t make a sound after that, and Robbe had to bury an onslaught of paranoid thoughts that threatened to overtake him. Robbe felt his sudden brutal ‘honesty’ heavy in the air, as if the words were still echoing in the bedroom. _Was it too much?_ Robbe stayed quiet as well, exposure like a UV light hitting every crevice of his interior. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, only that his chest was tight when he did. 

__\---_ _

__Here’s the thing. Sometimes your deepest fears seem silly, riddled with an inexplicable paranoia. Better yet, sometimes you’re even able to recognize that what you are fearing is irrational. That doesn’t stop them from coming true anyway._ _

__That’s exactly what followed._ _

__Sander hadn’t messaged Robbe since he left his apartment yesterday and Robbe attempted to shrug it off. And he might have succeeded if it wasn’t for Robbe’s half-truth following him like a shadow. He was coming home to an empty dorm room after class, shrugging off his jacket and throwing his phone on the bed._ _

__He sat on top of the duvet and fished his laptop out from his bag. He figured it was more productive to work on one of his biology assignments. He chewed on the string of his navy hoodie as he worked and his eyes darted from the screen, to the phone, and back to the screen again. Then back to the phone. He forced himself to think about Yasmina’s challenging eyes when she told him she was bound to hand in the assignment before him, and he ignored the phone in favour of his homework._ _

__Jens interrupted shortly after, arriving in the dorm room and immediately falling onto his bed._ _

__“Hey,” Robbe grunted, distracted fingers still typing on his laptop._ _

__Jens kicked off his shoes. “Dude, I’m fucking exhausted.”_ _

__“Because you actually went to class or?”_ _

__Robbe looked up just in time to be smacked in the face by an oncoming pillow. Robbe wasted no time in firing it back at Jens. Jens caught it, and Robbe flipped him off. Jens took the pillow and laid back on it, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling with a yawn._ _

__“Anyway,” Jens’ rested his chin in his hand. “Party downtown this weekend. I’ll buy us beer.”_ _

__Robbe rubbed at his eyes and closed his laptop halfway. He hadn’t realized how long he had been working on the assignment. He checked the time on his phone to find it was later than he thought. And he had no messages._ _

__But then he had an idea._ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ jens wants me to go with him this weekend to a party downtown… want to join me? 

_Seen_

__Robbe waited for a reply but none came. He reread his message and supposed it sounded a little too couple-y, so he tried again._ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ unless u wanted to do something else! or not 

_Seen_

__Robbe smacked himself in the face._ _

_sterkerdanijzer:_ u probably have other plans haha, no worries 

_Seen_

__Robbe tapped his foot nervously, closing his phone and falling back onto his bed. He was probably overreacting. Maybe Sander left his phone open in the conversation tab while he went to have a shower. Maybe he didn’t know what to reply. Sander was an old man at heart, he probably didn’t know that reading the messages without replying was causing Robbe to spiral._ _

__“Party?” Jens broke Robbe out of his doomed thoughts. “Yes? No?”_ _

__Alcohol had suddenly never sounded better. “Yes, definitely yes.”_ _

__And spiral he did._ _

__No reply came._ _

__In fact, Sander had gone radio silent._ _

__Robbe didn’t see him that weekend at the party downtown, and he ended up leaving early because he felt miserable. He watched Sander become active on Instagram only to become inactive minutes later with no replying to any DM’s. Or, just Robbe’s DM’s. He didn’t know. The alcohol did nothing to cheer him up. It didn’t provide him any semblance to what Sander had been making him feel. It was unfair._ _

__Maybe this was it. Maybe he had been used up. Maybe he had initially seemed shiny and new and effortless until he revealed himself for what he was. Too tattered. Now he was heavy, he was waterlogged. Every fault and flaw on full display. Too much for one person to deal with. Maybe he now seemed dirty, and poor, and broken, and-_ _

__He had to stop. It’s funny how that works. Once your deepest fears show even an ounce of sincerity suddenly everything else that you feared seems seconds away from being just as true. He was now wondering if he had been right all along. He wasn’t good enough for Sander. He wasn’t good enough for anyone. He still felt that flame in his chest, only now its burn felt unbearably cruel. Mocking. Maybe this was just another disappointment, another loss. Robbe was familiar with loss._ _

He was trying to shut his thoughts up, knowing that he was bordering on dramatic. Jens was snoring peacefully in the corner of the room and Robbe internally groaned. He kicked the duvet off, suddenly too hot. He stared at the ceiling and tapped his fingers on his chest, gravitating towards doing the motion of a few piano chords. _Last Leaf Falls_ was in his head again, and although it sent another spike of _missing_ in his heart, it brought comfort. 

__He reached around in the dark until he felt his headphones under his pillow. Once connected to his phone, he found that exact song on Spotify and breathed a sigh of relief when it played in his ears. He fell asleep to thoughts of visions of a grand piano and tuft of white hair watching at his side._ _

__\---_ _

__Robbe was leaving the library when he saw him again._ _

__He was back to unhealthily throwing himself into his school work for the sake of distraction, arriving at the library at noon and leaving around midnight. It was pitch black outside, the campus rather empty, and Robbe pulled his hoodie up over his head to get warmer. He had his music playing in his ears, volume up to war with the nagging in his head. He wanted a reply from Sander, but he also just wanted Sander out. Out of his brain and out of his heart. The contrast struck him as odd but it did nothing to dull the feeling._ _

__He was already walking, halfway across the courtyard when an eerie air settled around him. In fact, the realization that he was completely alone in the night sent a jolt to his system, an almost unwanted adrenaline. A street light flickered. A tree rustled in the wind. He took his headphones out of his ears in case he needed to start running, every step he took seemed to echo around him. It was a concern drilled into his brain from growing up in a bad neighborhood. His mom taught him to always be aware, to never walk alone at night, and to be ready to run at the drop of his hat._ _

__He didn’t feel like he was alone._ _

__He started walking faster._ _

__Until-_ _

__Until he heard footsteps. His heartbeat was almost at its max, breathing irrationally uneven, and he whipped his head around only to find-_ _

__Sander._ _

__Sander was wearing a grey hoodie underneath his leather jacket and he had the hood up, white strands of hair poking out along his forehead and temples. His eyes were wide, alert, as he placed a hand on Robbe’s shoulders and looked around, and Robbe’s brain barely registered that he looked tired. Anger washed over him equally as quick._ _

__“You scared me, what the f-”_ _

__“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”_ _

__Robbe took a step back, Sander’s arms falling to his sides. His eyes were blacker than usual._ _

“Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me right now?” Robbe asked, feeling heat rise up into his chest and throat. Now was _not_ the time for words to fail on him. “You didn’t need to come to the party but you could have at least-” 

__“I’m only here by accident and because I was worried.”_ _

__Robbe didn’t understand. “Huh?”_ _

__“I mean,” Sander looked away, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, I’m just here to make sure you get back to the dorm safely. ”_ _

__Robbe just stared, his mouth hanging open a bit. His pounding heart now sinking. “You mean, you’re going to keep ignoring me.”_ _

Sander didn’t respond. He did this thing when he avoided conversations, this thing where he tensed up and froze completely. He seemed to be biting his cheek. Robbe had a billion things to say to that. _So this is it, huh? This is how it ends? What was it all for? You can take your past lives and fake childhoods and shove of them up your-_

__Instead, he felt the corners of his lips twitch up in self deprecating realization, and said something much simpler-_ _

__“Got it.” Robbe turned around and kept walking. He felt his eyes prickling and he quickly blinked, the cold making it harder._ _

__He looked back and saw that Sander was following him._ _

__“Don’t follow me.”_ _

__“It’s unsafe-”_ _

__“I mean it!” Robbe shouted as he kept walking. When he looked back again, Sander was gone._ _

__When he got back to the dorm he felt enraged. His slamming of the door broke Jens out of his Tik Tok-induced coma. He jolted up with a startled expression._ _

__“Dude, what the fuck.”_ _

__“Sorry,” Robbe apologized as he dropped his bag onto the ground with a heavy thud and walked over to his bed. He fell face first onto it. He would rather take the anger and run with it. He couldn’t even begin to let the creeping sadness into the forefront of his mind. Instead he focused on how Sander had appeared from the shadows to ‘walk him home’ as if he had any right to do so. How Sander seemed to think he could get away with breaking his silence for just a moment only to return to it. How it was very possible that Sander didn’t feel what Robbe was feeling all along. Robbe pushed his face farther into the pillow._ _

__“What time is it?” Jens asked, yawning._ _

__“Past midnight.”_ _

__“Why are you here? Thought you’d be at Sander’s.”_ _

__“I was at the library,” Robbe answered, sitting up and hunching over to lean against the wall. Jens did the same, stretching his neck and then looking Robbe dead in the eyes._ _

__“You look mad.”_ _

__“I am.”_ _

__“Because?”_ _

__Robbe just shook his head, gaze fitting on the wall right behind Jens bed. He didn’t know how to describe that he felt like someone had just taken a hammer to his heart and repeatedly smashed it._ _

__So he went with something similar, albeit a bit more simplified. “It’s over between Sander and I.”_ _

__“Over?” Jens had a hint of a smile on his face. “You mean, it wasn’t just sex?” He put a hand on his heart in mock surprise._ _

__“I mean, it was-” Robbe struggled. “Kind of. Not really. I don’t know what it was.”_ _

__“Well if it’s ‘over’ it was something,” Jens replied. “Are you good?”_ _

__Robbe couldn’t look at him. Jens understood, nodding his head._ _

__“Who broke it off first?” Jens asked._ _

__Robbe shrugged._ _

__“Ghosting?” Jens asked._ _

__“Sort of.”_ _

__“Sort of?”_ _

__“He _was_ ghosting, and then I saw him just now as I was leaving the library.”_ _

__“And?”_ _

__“And he told me I shouldn’t be walking home alone. What am I supposed to do with that?”_ _

__Jens furrowed his brows, leaning his head back against the wall and thinking. “I mean, he was right. They tell girls not to walk alone at night, I think that kind of applies to dudes too. Short ones, I mean.”_ _

__“Shut up. You’re not allowed to side with him.”_ _

__Jens smirked. “I don’t know, dude. There’s not much you can do if he’s over it.”_ _

__Robbe just groaned, hitting his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. That was not what he wanted to hear._ _

__“Now we can feel like losers together. I think Jana hates me. I told her about the redhead at that weird party and she stopped texting me.”_ _

__Robbe listened to Jens vent about his love life with half an ear. Robbe might have told him more about Sander but the conversation veered too far from it. Robbe couldn’t find it in him to feel annoyed. He was rather grateful at the topic change and welcomed distraction._ _

__By the time a few days rolled around, Robbe had gone through a few stages of emotions. At first he was furious, hand hovering over the block button on Sander’s account on and off all weekend. But bone-deep sadness settled in afterward. He drank countless beers with Jens in their dorm room until he passed out, heaviness weighing him down and keeping him anchored in bed. What followed was a weird mix of anger and sadness and then- immense confusion._ _

__Because really… What the hell happened?_ _

__It was impulse for Robbe to go to the blaming-himself-place. He hated blaming people for doing things that were almost expected of them. And he was sure both of them probably expected the hooking up to die off at some point. They never put a label on it. They never communicated what they wanted out of it. It was Robbe’s fault for being content in the beginning before- before it all hit him at once. The happiness. The routine. The feeling like he was part of something bigger than just him. False security._ _

__But he refused to believe he had made it all up in his head. He just couldn’t buy into that. He couldn’t imagine the pull was one sided. He trailed a finger over his jugular and imagined a rope tied around his neck and tugging him in Sander’s direction. Either Sander had been holding the other end of the rope or maybe, just maybe, it had been attached to Sander’s neck too. He couldn’t believe it wasn’t the latter. It had to be._ _

__He found himself outside of the library again, this time with Yasmina. There was a patch of grass that a lot of students used as a study grounds, and they were experiencing a rare warm day outside. They had put down a blanket over the grass. Yasmina had her laptop in her lap and a focused look on her face. Robbe’s computer set to the side in favour of abandoning his work and lying flat on his back to watch the sky. His eyes followed a leaf gliding through the air to join the rest of the fallen soldiers on the ground._ _

__It took her twenty minutes to get annoyed with him._ _

__“Come on,” Yasmina shut her laptop halfway to give him her infamous stare. “I’m tired of this. What’s wrong?”_ _

__Robbe picked a piece of grass from above his head and twiddled it in between his fingers. “As a double agent you should know.”_ _

__Yasmina raised an eyebrow. “Sander?”_ _

__Robbe’s eyes roamed back over to hers, shooting her a condescending glare. “Obviously.”_ _

__Yasmina scoffed. “Don’t give me that look, I talk to you more than him these days.”_ _

__Robbe rolled his eyes. “Sure.”_ _

__“Dude, what’s up?”_ _

“I just-” Robbe felt the words stumbling from his brain and falling through his mouth, unable to stop or slow them down. They had been sitting heavy on his heart for what felt like years. His need for someone to _listen_ outweighed any care of oversharing. “I thought it was going well? Like, I really, really thought-” He rubbed his face with his hands. “The sex was- it was- wow. And he was- you know, _him_. And it just felt- different with him? And now he’s gone completely silent on me and I really have no idea what happened.” 

__Yasmina surprised Robbe by shrugging and opening her laptop back up. “Boring. That’s just Sander.”_ _

__Robbe could not read that reaction. “Huh?”_ _

__Yasmina had her chin rested in her hand as she scrolled, still looking at the screen. “He does that sometimes when he’s feeling a little low. Sometimes he has one of- I mean, sometimes a friend will go check on him and you know, make him eat something but most of the time we just wait for him to come out of it.”_ _

__Robbe was still confused. “What? Is he okay?”_ _

__“Of course,” Yasmina looked back up at him. “I mean, it sucks obviously, to have those extreme highs and lows but he’s dealt with this for a… long time now, he usually knows how to help himself and when he needs someone with him.”_ _

__A nagging thought picked at his helpless brain. “Highs and lows…”_ _

__Yasmina just stared. “Oh, he didn’t tell you he’s bipolar?”_ _

__Robbe just stared._ _

__“What the fuck? What is his deal-” Yasmina seemed to say more to herself than him._ _

__Realization was a giant wave crashing over his body._ _

__“I- I gotta go…” Robbe stood up and shoved everything back into his backpack. Yasmina watched him, seemingly in complete understanding. Robbe swung his backpack over his shoulder and took off like a man on a mission._ _

__Robbe wasn’t seeing in front of him as he darted down the road, blurry traffic in his peripherals. Robbe fished through his memory to their last conversation before everything went to hell. _Robbe’s mom. The mental institution._ Their twisted game of back and forths where they avoided whole truths or no truth at all. Robbe wanted to regret bringing it up but he couldn’t find it in himself to. If anything, Robbe wanted to know if there was something he had done to make Sander believe he couldn’t trust Robbe with this information. But he supposed, again, Robbe hadn’t trusted Sander with his own past either. Although, it wasn’t about trust. It was about being vulnerable. And if Sander feared that then Robbe was in the same boat in every way._ _

__Robbe pounded on Sander’s expensive looking door._ _

__Nothing._ _

__He knocked again._ _

__Nothing._ _

__“Sander I know you’re in there…” Robbe spoke into the crack. “This is so stupid.”_ _

__The door mocked him, and Robbe rolled his eyes right back._ _

__“I could be dying out here.” Robbe tried for a laugh, a giggle, something. “I could get attacked in the hallway, it’s kind of dark.”_ _

__Robbe heard footsteps on the other end. He waited in anticipation and then-_ _

__Nothing._ _

__Robbe assumed he was standing on the other side._ _

__Robbe tried for something softer. “Please just let me in. You don’t have to say anything just- let me talk to you.”_ _

__A moment of hesitation and then- Sander opened the door._ _

__It was the first time Robbe was seeing him this worn out. He was wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, his white hair a tousled mess on his head. It made Robbe want him even more if that was physically or emotionally possible._ _

__Above all that, he had a stone cold expression on his face. This wasn’t working. Robbe shrugged on past him, taking off his jacket and throwing it and his backpack onto the island. He yanked the grey hood of his sweatshirt off of his head in a large gesture._ _

__It was tense. Sander was still holding the door open, frozen on the spot and standing with his back to Robbe. The apartment looked the same as it always did, a record playing on the player in the corner of the room, some old-timey music filling the space. Despite the tension Robbe’s heart seemed to settle at being back here again. He was able to breathe. To think. To focus._ _

__“I’m mad at you,” Robbe said, crossing his arms._ _

__Sander replied, voice hoarse, “You should be.” Robbe still couldn’t see his face though._ _

__“I’m mad you would think being bipolar would change anything for me.”_ _

__Sander tensed up more in the corner. He finally shut the door and turned around, leaning against it with a nonchalance Robbe knew was all facade. He still wasn’t looking at Robbe._ _

__“I’m not doing this to you.”_ _

__Robbe softened his expression, thinking maybe he was coming on too strong. He exhaled slowly. “Doing what?”_ _

__“This,” Sander finally looked at him, his dark eyes cold. “I’m not- good. You don’t deserve this- especially with everything with your mom-”_ _

__The mention of his mom sent a sharp spike to his throat. So he had been right. He just didn’t know how close the story had hit to Sander, and how Sander would take the path of the martyr._ _

__Robbe took a step towards Sander, who stood coiled so tight that Robbe could practically see him vibrating with potential energy. Robbe froze, not sure whether to push further, but he needed to make a choice here._ _

__“Sander-” Robbe’s hands clenched in fists, the emotions threatening to overpower him. “I was falling for- I am… Sander, I don’t want to lose you.”_ _

__Sander kept staring hard into Robbe’s soul._ _

__“This doesn’t change anything,” Robbe said softly. “Nothing. At all. I know I’m not… you, I’m a hundred levels below you but something just feels… right with us. I don’t want to lose you. I really don’t want to even think-”_ _

__Sander was in front of him in seconds, his gaze shifting from stony to soft. His eyes had a shine of vulnerability that Robbe was positive he’d never seen before._ _

__He brought a hand up to lightly caress Robbe’s cheek, using his thumb to lightly stroke the skin there. Robbe felt like the sun had just bathed him in a warm light, casting a comfort over him that he had been so longing for the past week._ _

__“Don’t do that.”_ _

__Robbe melted into the touch, eyes fluttering halfway to shut. “Do what?”_ _

__“Downplay yourself,” Sander spoke gently. “You have no idea what you do to me.”_ _

__“Then stay,” Robbe opened his eyes and grabbed hold of the collar on Sander’s sweater, tugging it forward, begging him to give in. “Be with me.”_ _

__Sander looked pained, his eyes squeezing shut as Robbe trailed his lips along the side of Sander’s mouth._ _

__“I’ve been waiting for you,” Sander said, eyes still shut. “For what feels like forever.”_ _

__Robbe tugged again gently and Sander finally opened his eyes._ _

__“I’m here,” Robbe trailed his nose over Sander’s. “Be with me.”_ _

__“And when you realize the truth,” Sander looked serious. “When you realize who I am, will you leave?”_ _

__“I already know you.”_ _

__“Promise me you’ll leave.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“If you don’t like it,” Sander clenched his jaw. “Promise me you will leave.”_ _

__Robbe wasn’t having it. He gripped Sander’s sweatshirt tighter and pushed him backwards up against the wall. Sander let himself be handled, his eyes on Robbe the entire time._ _

__Robbe cupped Sander’s face in his palms, making sure Sander heard every word. “I know you. You’re gentle, and good, and a little weird. Above all that you make me feel safe, and home, and I’m not letting that go. You’re bipolar. And it changes nothing.”_ _

__Sander stared at Robbe for a long time and Robbe stared right back. There was something hanging in the air, whether that be uncertainty or fear or the unknown. Above all else, it was a promise. A promise that Sander hadn’t been holding the rope. It had been around his neck too._ _

__“Kiss me,” Sander surprised Robbe with a whisper._ _

And Robbe did. Gently, his lips grazed Sander’s before pulling Sander’s face closer and kissing him. Kissing him with words that he tried to gently tear into Sander’s doubts. Words that said _I’m not letting go. Stay with me. Be with me. I can’t lose you._

__Sander kissed back, and it was enough._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go AGAIN.
> 
> here's the rundown in case you missed the teaser: about a month ago, my friend emma and i binged twilight (please bear with me). this quickly sparked a robbe/sander vampire au discussion that strayed SO far from twilight it's unreal. thus, this fic was born.
> 
> the fic is (basically) complete, i wrote a healthy 90k during this quarantine because the ideas kept coming and i didn't want to start posting chapters in case i wanted to go back and change stuff. so no worries about me lacking in updates, i will be posting a chapter a week! every sunday at 1pm est.
> 
> while i wrote it, this never would have happened if it weren't for emma. seriously, her endless amount of ideas are the reason this was written. you can also thank her for putting hoursssss into editing this...... literally...... her mind.......
> 
> there are some pretty heavy things that happen in this fic, but if you are ever worried about anything you can message me on tumblr! i want everyone to be safe reading. i will put an additional trigger warning in the beginning notes before each chapter that contains the bad things.
> 
> title of this fic is from the song human by dodie :)
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe
> 
> emma's tumblr:  
> lolahydri


	2. biting down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> \- depressive episode
> 
> \- past suicidal thoughts/talk: starts at the line "October 31st 1972" and ends "Only he wasn't."
> 
> \- we go back in time to said suicide attempt, that's specifically described at "It had been a background thought for awhile" and ends "Only he wasn't", but please be careful during the entire flashback as it's continued to be brought up in thoughts
> 
> see the end note for a quick description of what happened during those parts, and be safe! if you're still worried, message me on tumblr :)

_earthlingoddity:_ I’ve been thinking about you in my shirt all day.

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ it’s comfyyyy

 _earthlingoddity:_ All of my shirts are comfy!

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ almost picked a bowie one but i felt bad

 _earthlingoddity:_ Why?

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ cause

 _earthlingoddity:_ My two favourite guys.

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ me and bowie? :D 

_earthlingoddity:_ Yes :D

\---

Jens had gone home for the weekend, leaving earlier that morning. Robbe liked to get the majority of his homework done on Fridays as to have the weekend to himself, so he was currently alone in the dorm room scrambling to finish his last assignment for the night. Yasmina had sent him a snapchat a couple hours ago of her handing the assignment in with the caption _'I win'_ , and Robbe had made it his mission to at least beat her in quality.

It was an essay on gene therapy. He was not a fan. Essays were his least favourite type of homework, preferring hands-on work to actual paperwork. He found it rather difficult to keep his focus as he aimed to hit the word limit and then spent the rest of the time editing it. Yasmina tended to speed, so he would combat her with detail. His eyes were burning by the time 1am rolled around. When he finally hit submit he fell onto his back on the bed in accomplished relief, finally allowed himself to check his phone.

 _earthlingoddity:_ Hey. Hope the essay is going okay.

Robbe frowned at the screen. While he was used to Sander typing like he was a fifty year old father of two, the tone seemed a little off. Sander was one to start up a conversation with some light teasing, maybe an emoji or a meme thrown in, and Robbe may have been an overthinker at heart but he was getting better at this. Reading Sander. In fact, it had never been too difficult, even amidst the half truths, but he was learning less just about his body language and more about his insecurities. His doubts. His fears. Sander was bad at accepting the love he deserved, at understanding that he didn’t always need to be the strong one. He was fiercely loyal to those he cared for, something Robbe could relate to, and would always jump to give something up if it meant he was helping a friend. It was why he was so quick to sacrifice his own happiness when he learned of Robbe’s mom. He believed himself to be a tornado leveling everything in its path. Robbe couldn’t name a moment in the time that he had known Sander where he believed him to be toxic. He was anything but. Robbe sat up to lean against the wall, thumbs twitching as he decided what to text.

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ just finished. everything okay?

 _earthlingoddity:_ I’m feeling a little low. Don’t worry, though.

There it was again, the honesty quickly followed by something to ease Robbe’s mind rather than his own. Robbe’s finger almost immediately found the ‘call’ button at that response, the room suddenly too quiet and eerie. 

“Hey,” Sander picked up, voice faint. 

“Hi you,” Robbe tried to make his voice light. 

Sander cleared his throat. “I mean it, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Robbe responded. “I won’t. But do you need anything? I have plenty of jokes.”

Robbe heard the sharp exhalation of a very un-Sander-like chuckle before the response: “I don’t know.”

“I can come over.”

“It’s too late,” Sander replied. “I don’t want you walking alone.”

“You can come to me?” While he still didn’t find it much of a justified worry (he could defend himself, thanks very much), Robbe knew better than to fight that battle. “Jens went home for the weekend. Although I don’t want you being unsafe either.”

There was silence on the other end. Robbe could hear him thinking from here.

“I’ll be there soon.”

Robbe sat up with a smile that immediately slid right back off his face at the sight of the dorm. Oh no. Robbe felt shame catapult to the forefront of his mind, cheeks warming at the thought of Sander seeing his room like _this_. He tried to make quick work of the clutter, stuffing dirty laundry into random crevices and sweeping empty cans into garbage bags with the swipe of an arm, and by the time he even caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, the embarrassment was back. Robbe really tried to tame his unruly hair, but there was nothing he could do about the light indentations on his cheeks where he’d been laying on his sheets. _Fuck it_ , he thought, and left the room to wait in the lobby. Unease and excitement ate at him in equal measure.

The October air was getting colder and colder by the day, the leaves painting the ground in orange and yellow. Robbe waited for him with his arms crossed to keep warm, his hoodie not doing much to help. Robbe had to stop himself from overanalyzing as he surveyed his options. He’d yet to witness Sander’s lows, and thinking of what his mother had to go through made him dig his nails into the palms of his hands. What had worked best for her? He still remembered every little detail, and while he would never put the two of them in a box, nor did his mom have bipolar, he knew there were certain things that did not help a person when they were sad. And he knew what it was like to be sad.

One minute he was alone, and then the next Sander was there, bundled up outside the door and raising his hand in a small wave. He’d made record time. Robbe let him into the dorm lobby and wasted no time winding his arms around Sander’s middle, squeezing tightly as if he hadn’t just seen him earlier in the week. Sander looked to have just rolled out of bed, hair fluffy and sticking up in odd places. He had deep bags under his eyes, and Sander let Robbe study them for a brief moment. Robbe offered him a small smile. Sander tried to return it, but it got lost in his face.

No words were exchanged as Robbe led him to the dorm room. Once inside, Sander looked around, his tired eyes lighting up a bit at the mere sight of Robbe’s space. He took off his jacket and placed it on the desk by the window. Beside it was a framed photo of a baby Robbe Ijzermans, cradled in his mom’s arms. She sat in an armchair, and she was positively beaming. Sander picked up the picture almost instinctively, thumbing over the corner of it in time with the softening of his eyes.

Robbe sat on the bed and watched him, heart seizing in his chest. “Come here.”

Sander didn’t hesitate to fall into Robbe’s open arms and they fell back onto the pillow. Sander buried his face in Robbe’s neck and sighed contentedly, a silent thank you. Robbe kissed the top of his head in response to that and held him tightly. Robbe loved the moments where they spoke with actions, where the comforting touch of a hand said more than words could ever say.

“It’s not a grand apartment,” Robbe joked. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re here,” Sander replied sleepily. “That’s all I need.”

Robbe watched him breathe, the sudden realization that he would run into fire for the boy on his chest. If he could take his sadness and shoulder it instead, he would. If he could feel it all for Sander, he would. 

“It’s the time of year,” Sander spoke slowly. “That makes me…”

Sander trailed off and Robbe stayed quiet. He could sense that Sander was having a hard time gathering strength to speak, so instead he just ran a hand through his hair. That was all there was to it, he supposed. Sander didn’t need Robbe to know exactly what to do, or how exactly to make him feel better. Sander just needed Robbe to follow him. It was Sander’s choice to talk or not, to ask for help or not. _Sander’s_ choice. 

Robbe only drifted off to sleep once he felt Sander’s breathing even out and saw a peaceful expression come over his face.

The remainder of the week passed in a similar fashion. Sander was low energy. He skipped most of his classes and holed himself up in bed, promising Robbe that he simply had to sleep through it. After their one night in Robbe’s dorm they moved camp back to Sander’s apartment where Robbe continued to come back to the rest of the week. He woke up in the morning and made Sander a coffee, leaving it on the nightstand and kissing his cheek. He took a few minutes to tenderly run a hand through Sander’s white locks in the quiet morning hours, waiting until the last second before heading out to school. Then he would go about his classes as usual and come home to Sander at the end of the day. It was comparable to the push and pull of rocky waves, an equal balance of give and take. Sander always appeared reassured when Robbe came through the door, as if he was always worried he wouldn’t.

He returned Friday evening to find Sander perched at the small dining table, a fresh coffee in hand and his morning newspaper open in front of him. Robbe’s greeting involved wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck from behind and resting his chin on the top of his head.

“Hey,” Sander leaned his chin down to kiss the arm Robbe had across his chest. “Good day?”

Robbe exhaled a deep breath against his head as he spoke. “It’s now the weekend, so yes.”

“We have that Halloween party, right?” Sander asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Robbe felt his heart spike at the ‘we’. It would never get old hearing himself looped into Sander’s life, his sentences, his weekend plans. Robbe was grateful to get any minute with Sander, let alone share a part of him. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“I will be,” Sander replied as Robbe moved to sit on top of the table in front of the newspaper. “Today’s been better.”

The impact of those words were like a warm cup of tea. “Maybe it has something to do with my 10/10 coffee I made you this morning.”

“Or perhaps because you picked my favourite mug... you decide.”

And it could be that simple. Of course, Robbe knew it wouldn’t always be, and he thought perhaps it was unfair to say anything about a mental illness was simple, but it was working for them. They celebrated the remainder of the night with a movie on the couch, a more upbeat Sander and a sleepier Robbe, and it worked. Robbe couldn’t imagine any road too treacherous to go down if it meant the end of the line came to this. 

Robbe went back to his dorm the day of Halloween to get ready. Sander had asked him what he was going as at least fifty times the past week, and it became a game for him to answer something different every single time. Robbe liked teasing Sander with something for once, so he got ready alone. 

Naturally, Sander, petty in his own playful right, declared that his costume would also be a surprise.

Robbe should have expected the world’s mysterious ways to put them in check, because when he knocked on the door to Sander’s apartment and it swung open-

Sander was dressed as a vampire.

_God damn it, they looked like they planned this._

There were some differences, of course. Robbe had slicked his hair back and drawn on fangs because he was not about to be uncomfortable with fake teeth the rest of the night, especially when he was going to spend most of it next to Sander. He was wearing black pants and a white button up top, and he had bought cheap dollar store makeup to make his eyes dark and dead.

Sander had blood dripping from his eye, and he was also in a white button up that had splotches of red all over it. His white hair was a puffed up mess on top of his head, and Robbe wanted to jump him right there and then. Sander grinned as soon as he laid eyes on Robbe, fangs flashing.

Robbe wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck and grinned. “Well this is awkward.”

“For you, maybe,” Sander smirked. “People are going to think you copied me.”

“Or you copied me.”

“Or that we planned this.”

“Let’s go with that last one.”

The entire college was going to a third year’s house for the Halloween party. The house was decently sized, by no means like Milan’s, but it was still absolutely insane. Robbe and Sander arrived together after doing a couple of shots at the apartment, and the front lawn was already draped in red solo cups, and orange and black streamers, and smoke oozing over the grass. Sander kept an arm on the small of Robbe’s back as they made their way inside. He once again found himself feeling giddy with the thought of being Sander’s, of sharing parts of him, of being the person at his side. He wondered how anyone fell out of the honeymoon phase if they felt as elated as Robbe felt now.

They shuffled past vampires, and werewolves, and ballerinas and ‘slutty’ nurses. Robbe recognized a few people from his classes and he noticed how not a single one of them ignored Sander. When Sander was in a room, eyes were on him. Robbe had never been one for attention, so he didn’t mind it. Especially considering Sander was his. They had to stop in the crowd for a moment, and Sander yelled in Robbe’s ear from behind. “I need to get really, really drunk.”

Robbe turned to look at him with a knowing grin. That they could do. “Got it.”

Once they finally made it over to the kitchen, Sander brought out his flask filled with vodka from his pocket. They found some spare red solo cups and Sander poured out two shots. He passed one to Robbe, they held them up, and then they downed them.

They repeated this process three more times. Robbe shook his head and let out a ‘hoooo’ sound as he slammed the cup down on the counter. Sander brought the flask to his mouth and finished it off, the fake blood on his eye doing something for Robbe. He couldn’t hold back, he took the flask from Sander’s hand and threw it onto the table before pushing Sander back against the counter, kissing him passionately. Sander kissed back with his eyes squeezed shut, the vodka on their breath mixed into one.

With Sander’s hands hooked under his thighs, Robbe was housed onto the counter and then kissed into oblivion. It felt like minutes, like seconds, like hours and days all at once. One minute there were hands in his hair and then the next they slipped under his shirt, pulled him closer, thumbed his jaw. Alcohol was just so good sometimes. Every person shuffling in an out was merely background noise.

The only thing that managed to pull them from this reality was a familiar voice.

“Ah, look who decided to show up.”

Sander pulled away to look over his shoulder, and Robbe opened his eyes to see Yasmina and Zoe filing into the kitchen. Yasima winked at Robbe, who just smiled drunkenly from both alcohol and kisses. Yasmina was dressed as catwoman, wearing an all-black bodysuit and cat ears on her head, and she passed as she filled a red solo cup with tap water. Zoe was dressed as Harley Quinn, her blue and pink pigtails bobbing against her shoulder as she uncorked her bottle of wine.

Zoe took a swig as Yasmina looked at Sander. “Nice costumes. Both of you.”

Sander smirked, almost stumbling as he leaned against the counter. “Wasn’t planned. I swear.”

Robbe looked at Sander, betrayed, considering they had agreed less than an hour ago to pretend they _had_ planned this.

Zoe looked at Robbe with a pointed gaze, and Robbe could only hold hands up in defense. 

Yasima hooked an arm through Zoe’s as they backed out of the room. “Sure! Totally believe you.”

Sander laced his hand through Robbe’s and pulled him off the counter. “Come.”

They found Jens, Moyo and Aaron in the midst of the dance floor. All three of them appeared to be some sort of zombies with blood splatters and white, ripped clothing. It was the kind of party with absolutely zero rules, so Sander took an already-rolled blunt from his pocket and they passed it around. There was an eagerness in Sander that night. He was quick to down any drink passed to him, heavy inhalations when his turn with the drug came around. A knot of concern wormed its way into Robbe’s heart, but he assumed it was because Sander had a hard week. One night of this wouldn’t kill him, and Robbe could be responsible, Robbe could watch out for him. Sander would do the same if their positions were flipped, so when the blunt came around again, Robbe passed on it and huddled closer to Sander’s side.

And then some deep, bass-heavy song was blasting and Sander pulled Robbe in by the waist, pushing them both deeper into the thrumming and gyrating bodies in the living room. Sander nipped at Robbe’s ear and buried his face against his neck, sucking at the skin there and rocking against him. Robbe’s throat, exposed and vulnerable as he looked up to the ceiling, was going to be absolutely wrecked tomorrow. When he brought his head back down it was to only kiss Sander again, and again, and again. 

Robbe was yanked out of it by someone abruptly shoving into his shoulder and almost sending him falling to his feet.

When he regained his balance he noticed it was a six foot fourth year with a strong build, looking like he could belong on some American football team. Robbe practically felt the frown on Sander’s face as he shuffled in front of Robbe, shoulders squared with a soberness he didn’t quite possess that night. 

“Watch where you’re going, yeah?” Sander said angrily, staring up at the guy. Sander might have only gone up to his shoulders, but he had presence. 

“Okay pretty boy,” The guy's gruffly voice spoke up, eyes pointed at Sander, and if he felt threatened in the slightest, it didn’t show on his face. “Nice try.”

Robbe stared between the two of them, not liking where this was going. On one hand, Sander was very wasted, high, and now-angry. It was not a good time to get in a fight, let alone in the midst of a dancing crowd. 

“I’m serious,” Sander yelled. “Move along.”

“You know I don’t think I will,” The guy’s chest was touching Sander’s now and for some reason that was what drove Robbe to the edge of fury. 

He stepped in between them and grabbed hold of the guy’s tank top. Robbe was probably half his weight and height, but he did not like the look he was giving Sander. _Not him. Don’t you dare._ Robbe’s protective instinct walked hand in hand with the sudden surge of adrenaline popping in, and Robbe welcomed the two with open arms. 

“Really?” Robbe looked up at the guy. “Fuck off.”

“You trying to fight?” The guy began, starting to shove Robbe before people around them interrupted, dragging the guy backwards, his large mass dwarfed as he fell away into the horde. 

Robbe watched after him, making sure he was gone before turning back to his boyfriend. When he did turn around, he was met with Sander rubbing at his face in a sudden and sober clarity. The packed dance floor seemed to take on a life of its own but only using it to glare at the boys who had caused such an interruption. Robbe caught sight of Yasmina in the crowd giving him a thumbs up, Zoe hugging her from behind. He only shook his head and put his hands on Sander’s back, spinning him around and leading them out of the throng.

They made their exit through the front door and onto the lawn, Sander stumbling over his own feet in a way that was all-too-familiar. The almost-fight had momentarily sobered Robbe up, but he was still feeling quite off balance. “Let’s get some air?”

It was a cool night. He kept his arm looped through Sander’s and they walked down the street for a bit before Sander tripped and sent them both stumbling to the ground in slow motion. Sander laughed, and Robbe laughed, and it felt good. Free. Homely. They were out in the middle of the street. And it felt homely. Sander crawled over to the lawn by the curb and fell back, staring at the sky. Robbe followed him, collapsing bonelessly, his head beside Sander’s, touching. He reached around to find Sander’s hand and they lay like this for several minutes, drunkenly admiring the stars. Robbe used to believe that everything was a marvelous accident, but it was only now that he began to backpedal on that theory. This wasn’t an accident. This inexplicable rope that pulled him to Sander could never be an accident.

“Strange,” Sander spoke up. “The sky.”

It was such a Sander-thing for him to say that Robbe almost wouldn’t have believed that he was as high as a kite if he hadn’t seen it for himself. If he hadn’t looked over and seen the way Sander’s eyes were glassy and his mouth was working around unsaid words.

“Do you believe in astrology?” Robbe asked, to fill in the gaps of his thoughts.

“I’ve read a bit about it,” Sander slurred. “Maybe.”

“Every year the stars align almost just like this.”

“Mmmm.” 

“I’m thinking about it, and last year I was-” Robbe paused, realizing he shouldn’t talk about exactly what he was doing 365 days ago. He was still grieving and it hadn’t slowed. “Last year I was not this happy.”

“Me neither,” Sander replied. “Far from it.”

Robbe took a moment to wonder at the world’s strange ability to bring people together. How he’d operated in a world without Sander exactly a year ago and how he couldn’t imagine any number of future years without him now.

“Mmm,” Sander was staring at the stars with a dreamy expression. “October 31st.”

Robbe chuckled as he rolled to straddle Sander, placing his hands on his chest and looking down at him. “Happy Halloween.”

Sander was still staring above, eyes darting between Robbe’s own and the sky blanketed behind his head in quick succession. “Happy death day.” His voice was quiet and then those eyes were shutting, hands falling limp at Robbe’s thighs.

Robbe raised an eyebrow, holding back a giggle at the sudden absurdity. “Death day?”

Sander slurred. “Mmm, my death day.”

Robbe’s smile went taut and then slid off his lips altogether as he took in Sander’s slurred words and glazed eyes. He was clearly very, very far gone. Every second that ticked by without some sort of clarification caused the pit of dread in his core to grow, silent but deadly. He hadn’t wanted to think about this, hadn’t wanted to put Sander and death on the same scale. It was suddenly a little hard to breathe.

“Alright,” Robbe rolled off of Sander onto the pavement so he was back to sitting on the curb. It was also hard to see straight. “We should probably-”

“I just wanted to die.”

The words sent a shock of pain, of fear, through Robbe so strong he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He looked down at Sander, who had closed his eyes and began to frown. “Sander-”

“1972.”

“What are you-”

Sander’s eyes were sleepy when they blinked back open. A small smile came over his face when he saw Robbe looking back at him, and if Robbe had been in any state to take a joke, he may have even considered it a smirk. “I shouldn’t be saying this.”

“Let’s get you home.” Robbe didn’t know what else to do. “Come.”

Robbe could feel himself shaking the entire way back to Sander’s apartment. It was hard to process a damn thing. He was on autopilot, something his body tended to do when his mind couldn’t keep up. He had heard those words before, words that he would forever be attached to _her_. But he had to get Sander home. Sander, whose arm was looped around Robbe’s neck, eyebrows furrowed and a look of creeping despair coming over him.

When they finally reached the door to Sander’s apartment, Robbe had to reach into Sander’s pockets to find his key. It was nearly impossible with the weight of Sander leaning entirely on him, but he fumbled his way through and immediately dragged Sander to his bed, stripping him down to just his underwear and helping him under the covers. Robbe thumbed over the corner of Sander’s mouth, not even paying half enough attention to note the way face paint was going to be smeared on his pillow by morning. He had to breathe for a second, so he left a drifting Sander with a kiss to the forehead.

Robbe then grabbed a large glass of water from the kitchen and downed it, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and trying to centre himself. The 1972 thing wasn’t making a whole lot of sense, a nagging thought in the back of his mind. Was he just drunk? Sander _did_ love to randomly blurt things out, but they always had a purpose. Regardless, that wasn’t what was causing this ice-cold feeling in his throat, stemming down to his chest. Sander had wanted to die. Robbe squeezed his hands in his hair until he felt a sting. He was going to be sick, panic looming over him. It was an all-too familiar feeling. Words that were bringing him back a world-defining phone call two years ago. His breaths were coming out ragged, so he tugged his hair harder. _Not now, Robbe. This is not the time._ Sander is fine. He’s drunk, he’s in bed, he’s going to sleep this off and wake up to freshly brewed coffee in the morning. But somehow, Robbe could feel things changing around him. This wasn’t something to be blown over, washed down the drain with the rest of the remnants of this night. This was different. Unavoidable. 

“Robbe?” Sander called from the bedroom.

Robbe refilled up the glass and hurried back to him.

Sander was still laying there, arms raised in the air in invitation. “Come.”

Robbe stripped down and crawled into bed next to him, but he stayed sitting, feeling more awake than he had all evening.

“I’m sorry,” Sander muttered. “M’ drunk.”

“I know,” Robbe ran a hand through Sander’s hair, gentle fingers through pale strands. “It’s okay.”

Sander was staring at him through glazed and half-lidded eyes. “Can you hold me?” The words were barely a whisper, and they were said with an almost pained expression. Robbe immediately laid down and opened his arms, pulling Sander so that his head was nuzzled into Robbe’s bare chest. 

Sander threw his arm over Robbe’s stomach and seemed to be trying to cuddle in as close as possible. Robbe let him, squeezing Sander tightly to him. It was within this moment that Robbe realized there was a simplicity to this. If he had to run through fire to protect the boy on his chest, he would. If he needed to be held, he would open his arms. And tonight, that was all he could do. Sander exhaled shakily. The sound made Robbe whisper, “Shh, I’m here.”

“Remember what I said,” Sander whispered. “Leave if you don’t… if you don’t like it…”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

-

After a night of restless sleep due to his all-consuming thoughts and everything feeling far too hot, Robbe gave up going back to bed at 6am. He rubbed his face as if it would help him make some sense of himself, his head thankfully only pounding a bit. The bed was empty. The glass of water he had left on the bedside table was still full, and he downed it within seconds, the dry crackle of his throat almost painful. It helped to wake him up though as his exhausted eyes strained in the morning light. When they fully came to, he looked down to see something smeared on the pillow and became overtly aware of the vampire makeup still caked on his face. None of that mattered though, as he threw the sheets off his legs. He needed to go out there and make sure Sander was okay. And while that was something he would never complain about, he knew he needed to mention last night or it would simmer in his brain. The panic of hearing Sander speak _those_ words outweighed any other logic. He needed to know he was okay.

Robbe got out of bed, threw one of Sander’s black shirts over his head, and slowly wandered into the living room. His fingers twisted together as he peeked his head around the corner, the smell of coffee permeating the apartment. It did a wonder for his nerves, anxiety ebbing away with such a familiar scent. That helped, and so did the crisp morning air shining in on the plants.

Sander was sitting on the balcony in a white shirt and underwear, nursing a cup of coffee between his hands. Robbe just watched him for a bit. He watched the way Sander’s back muscles were tensed up. To anyone else, he may have looked like a relaxed man enjoying the cool morning, but Robbe knew better. Sander was anything but. There was a stillness there that gave Robbe the immediate sense that something was off. No, the immediate knowledge, Because Sander turned around, the weight of the world causing his shoulders to sag, and ushered Robbe to join him with a mere nod. 

Robbe opened the sliding door and stepped outside. They didn’t speak when he sat down, pushing his chair closer to Sander. They didn’t speak when Sander lifted the cup to his mouth for a sip, and they still weren’t speaking when Robbe did the same minutes later. The tension was tangible.

Sander wasn’t looking at him, instead choosing to stare ahead at the view laid out for them. Physically, he was in as good of shape as Robbe was, with mussed hair and fake blood dried to his cheeks. 

“Morning,” Robbe finally spoke, trying to lighten the mood. “How are you feeling?”

Sander kept staring ahead. “I don’t get hungover.”

Robbe nodded, scratching at his arm in apprehension. “That’s good.”

More silence. More sips of coffee. Cars honking below them and a light breeze interrupting their placidity. None of those things had any bearing on the secluded universe they’d built around themselves in silence. Half-truths Robbe knew needed to come full circle, just like the earth around the sun every year, constellations falling into space. 

“Sander,” Robbe just wanted Sander to look at him. “About last night- it doesn’t matter. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want-”

“We do,” Sander’s face was frozen. “I just didn’t think that’s how I would tell you.”

Robbe scooched his chair even closer, directly in front of Sander. He leaned forward and placed both hands on Sander’s thighs, eyes wandering back up to his face. “Hey, look at me.”

Sander closed his eyes and exhaled, the veins on the side of his forehead more prominent. Then, he opened them, and they were the darkest Robbe had ever seen them.

“Just tell me what you need.” Robbe spoke softly.

“Robbe I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”

“Yes I do,” Robbe said. “Just tell me.”

“I tried to kill myself 48 years ago.”

Robbe felt a ringing in his ears. Sander said it so flatly, so seriously, without a hint of emotion in any direction. Robbe couldn’t tear his eyes from Sander’s face, from his sad eyes, the natural crinkle beside his lids, his handsome profile. The information resonated somewhere within his chest, startling a bone deep sadness upon recognition, but then reality hit.

“1972?” Robbe recalled from last night, a little stunned.

“I’m a vampire.”

The thing is, while it sounded absolutely outrageous to his practical, human ears at first thought, Robbe had heard the rumours before. Most people had. Vampires were myths, legends, folklore, supernatural beings that many were inclined to believe had walked this earth once upon a time. Robbe never had time to look into something so… silly? So fruitless. So beyond the realm of known knowledge. He felt himself to be too average, too small in a world that was filled with so many magnificent and unexplainable things. In all honesty, he’d been dealt a bad hand at life, one unfortunate event after another, the stars always out of alignment, and he just could not find it in himself to shift his focus to something on that level of what-if. Reality, practicality, making sense of his next moments. All of those things were far more important than any stretch of the imagination. He recalled Jens mentioning vampires once or twice, bringing up his superstitious speculations and research, but Robbe only listened with half an ear.

In short, Robbe’s knowledge on vampires was sparse. He knew he should feel something more at this news though. Shock, maybe? Fear? What is the normal reaction to finding out that your boyfriend’s a vampire? Was he supposed to gasp? None of that came. In fact, that wasn’t even remotely what his mind focused on in the span of Sander’s two sentence confession. Vampires weren’t the fear. The fear was something else.

Robbe abruptly realized that he’d been just staring, glazed vision looking right through Sander for some period of time before he could bring himself to blink and straighten up a little taller.

“If you want to leave, I understand.” Sander said.

“No, I-” Robbe’s mind ran circles around the first words he’d uttered, nothing more and nothing less. “I’m so sorry.”

Sander raised an eyebrow and set his coffee down on the side table. Robbe sat up straighter but kept his warm palms to Sander’s knees.

“I’m sorry you felt that much sadness.”

Sander looked taken aback. He tilted his head. “I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“I know.”

“I just thought that would be more concerning-”

Robbe’s words came before he could stop himself.

“I lost my mom to suicide.” It was a truth for a truth. The admission had been hanging on the tip of his tongue every time they had played their game of fake honesty. His soul yearned to share this part of himself with Sander, just as Sander had revealed one of his most hidden secrets. It was an eye for an eye. Gentle hands holding each other as they walked through uncharted territory together.

Sander froze, his eyes staring so deep into Robbe’s that neither of them breathed for a moment. Sander finally brought his hand down to hold one of Robbe’s against his knee. “I’m sorry.”

Robbe shook his head, his eyes betraying him with the first signs of tears. He looked behind Sander and thought, not for the first time, that grief was a boomerang, always coming back. He found himself grieving for that part of Sander too, the one that had died with his humanity. He wondered when the world would stop hurting the people he cared about. 

“She was in a mental institution,” Robbe’s voice was just above a whisper. “That part was true. It happened two years ago.” A pause. “Guess it all became a little too much.”

Sander was stroking the top of Robbe’s hand gently. They sat in silence for a few minutes, a silent agreement to let the moment speak for itself. To let the world continue without them, giving them time to sit with this. Robbe was the first to snap out of it. 

“Sander,” Robbe looked up at him. “Are you okay?” Worry seemed to tug at every artery pulsating in his body.

“The world is so strange.” Sander stared at Robbe’s hand, and his thumb stilled. 

Robbe looked up at him. Robbe couldn’t help but ponder over his knowledge on what vampires were meant to look like. There were the cliche ones, of course, sharp fangs and capes and slicked back hair. The stereo-type of a creature looking half alive, barely there, a monster. And God, Sander was no monster. The world _was_ strange because the world brought them together. This kind-hearted, gentle, platinum blonde who yearned for the right kind of love. And Robbe, craving the thrill and to feel real again. The world connected them in a way that had their stories overlapping, their pasts intertwined without having ever known each other. “Yes it is.”

“I want to tell you,” Sander hesitated. “About what happened in 1972.”

Robbe pulled away from his position, instead deciding to bring his knees to his chest. The corners of Sander’s lips were perking up as Robbe rested his chin on the top of his knees, a playful smile forming on his face. “I’m ready.”

Sander let out a long exhale in preparation, as if he was gearing up for battle. “Okay.”

\----

 **| October 31st, 1972 |**

Sander could hear everything from where he was perched at the top of the stairs. 

“But- there’s medication.”

“Yes, but his case is on the more-severe side.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. They’ll be here this afternoon.”

“I am not having my son taken to an institution!”

“He is twenty two years old. Eventually, you have to let him go.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d discussed it in his earshot, but it was the first time Sander remembered feeling an inevitable spike of fright at the words. They were being serious this time. They wanted him gone. His father was giving up on him. An icy tone without an inkling of love. _Let him go. He’s caused as much harm as it. Stop trying to fix something broken beyond repair._

Sander had spent the better half of his life fearing the asylums. He was diagnosed with a “manic-depressive illness” only a few days previously to that day, but he had known for years there wasn’t something quite right going on in his head. There were days when he was on top of the world only to crash and not be able to leave bed for a week. There were screaming matches with his dad that left him feeling like parts of his memory had been taken from him. There was no control. He knew. Oh, he knew. 

And he quietly did his research. What he concluded was that there was a place for people like him. Before the introduction of antipsychotics in the 1950’s, insane asylums were more prevalent. And as time went on, he secretly watched as less and less people were being institutionalized but the fear remained. It remained in every rollercoaster his brain took him on. 

Sander knew he could never speak a word of any of his research to anyone.

Until it became too much. Until he had a bad episode involving stealing his father’s car and crashing it into the side of his school. And his mom, with gentle eyes, had sat him down and told him they could figure it out together. Told him that there was a doctor they could go to, a doctor who would be patient. So he had followed her advice, and they went together, and he had known when the diagnosis came through that something was wrong. His mom was hiding something. He could see it on her face.

He was being sent to an asylum. A trial period, they called it, to detail exactly what was broken. _Manic-depressive_. Flashes of ice baths, and muzzles, and rooms that might as well be a prison flashed through his brain. 

He stood frozen at the top of the stairs, his insides crumbling. This was the first time he felt true heartbreak. It was as if someone had reached into his chest and latched their sharp fingernails into his heart. But above all of this was a blaring siren in his head screaming: _This is the sign you have been waiting for. This is when it is too much. You can’t handle that. There is only one option._ And then he was moving.

It had been a background thought for a while.

A safety net.

A conclusion.

Waiting for a sign.

This was it.

He walked down the stairs.

He didn’t look at his parents.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t even slam the door on his way out.

Everything was suddenly very, very simple.

\---

Sander thought often of the world, of his place in it, of the possibility that maybe he didn’t have one. The older he got, the truer that felt. He always thought there was probably some other life out there for him, but it passed him by. He was in the wrong universe, on the wrong planet. Time itself was all wrong.

He swallowed two pills.

“Space Oddity” was on repeat in his head, and he gave himself a moment to feel okay. He was sitting on a swing at a little park an hour away from his house. He had been walking for a long time.

He swallowed another three pills.

He thought about the David Bowie concert he had been to last year. It was the best day of his life. He thought about his friends who whispered behind his back. _Obsessive. It’s all he listens to. There’s something not quite right there._

He kept going and going, a thought for a pill, and with each swallow he welcomed death with wider arms. He’d always thought he’d be scared, but there was a nothingness here. A numbness. The signs had all been there, and now was time. Maybe he’d get another shot at life, and maybe he wouldn’t, but the only thing he wanted now was relief. He spared a brief and grateful thought for his room back home where his trusty paints would stay to dry up. They’d been there for him when nothing else had, and he paid a mock salute by upending the rest of the bottle down his throat.

Then everything faded, and Sander thought he may just be dead.

\---

Only he wasn’t.

Sander’s body writhed in agony, and he had the brief thought that he had made it to hell. It was a pain like no other, ceaseless burning as if he were suspended over a flame with no way out. Was this the result of an overdose? How long had it been? He opened his eyes.

There was a man’s face above him. He was in a nurses uniform, and his dirty blond hair had not a lock out of place.. Fear bypassed the pain for a moment. Had someone found him? Was he in the asylum? And how wasn’t he on fire? Why weren’t there flames blinding his vision?

Through the groans escaping through clenched teeth, he realized another woman was there. Young, with short brown hair and bangs that stopped above her eyebrows. Both of them looked to be in their twenties, and they were both strikingly beautiful. To look at them was momentary reprieve from whatever was happening inside him.

Sander was wrong before, about the true heartbreak. This was the most painful thing he ever had to endure. He was shaking and writhing but he couldn’t go far because all four of his limbs were strapped to the bed. He tried to make more sense of his surroundings but his eyelids were like magnets, hot and heavy jolts sending pain to his head.

“I’m not sure about this,” The girl was saying. “How long has he been changing?”

“About 24 hours now,” The man replied. “Should be over tomorrow.”

“Why him?” The brunette asked 

Before the man could answer, Sander let out a scream. It was unbearable. It was a hot iron being thrusted into his skin. It was hands reaching from every direction to snap his bones. It was smoke filling his lungs and choking him out from the inside. Gasoline in his eyes. Fingernails being ripped off one by one. Every hair on his body stripped from the root.

Yet no one was touching him. _Was it all in his head?_ He was used to his brain trying to destroy him, but not quite like this.

The man sat down on the bed and placed his hands on either side of Sander’s head. Sander could barely see him through his lidded, fiery eyes. “Hang in there.”

Sander moaned, the sound thick with agony. “What did you do to me-” His voice as he spoke felt like it was coming through a megaphone, the battering ram in his head only getting more persistent with every word.

“Everything will make sense tomorrow.”

Sander managed to choke out: “Kill me. Kill me please.”

“Milan-” The girl said from the door. “This is too suspicious- both of us being in here. The doctors will start to suspect something.”

So they were in a hospital room?

“I know,” Milan was standing up and grabbing something from the corner. “I’m going to give him some morphine.” 

“Will that work?” 

“It will keep him quiet.”

Milan looked extremely apologetic. “I’m sorry.” He spoke to Sander as he stabbed something into his leg. It barely registered amongst the rest of the pain. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Sander went very still, but the fire raged on. All he could do was lay there, a prisoner inside his own head. He occasionally dragged his eyes open to check if there were flames surrounding him, still unconvinced that he wasn’t burning alive. But other than that, he could only whimper out pained noises through parted lips as the drug made his body heavy and weak. There was no room for rational thought. Only the striking realization that he was alone. And alive. And he was being punished for being weak and broken. He felt so brutal he had a strange desire for Milan and his brunette friend to come back, someone, anyone to tell him what was going on. To help him. To tell him he was going to be okay. But he supposed he had to stop relying on people to stick with him. Everyone he had known had given up. Tears rolled down the side of his burning face and soaked into his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sob, too broken to care who heard. 

_Please stop. Let it end. I can’t take it anymore. I need it to end._

And much to his surprise, the pain did stop, although he had no idea how much time had passed. It didn’t lessen, didn’t gradually go away, it just... stopped. His whole body relaxed, his muscles felt light, his skin cool. He wasn’t out of breath or tired. Everything just stopped.

His cheeks were wet from where he had been crying, and he recognized that although the pain was gone, he was still feeling the emotional aftermath. His eyes and chest were heavy. He lifted his head, finally able to make sense of the room now that he was no longer on fire. It was a hospital room for sure, but it was emptier than he thought it’d be. He could see every detail vividly, every dust particle emitting a smell. The room appeared to be underused. 

The most prominent was a feeling in his throat, a craving that he needed to satisfy but he didn’t know how. It felt hot and sore and he knew that the logical answer was water but the thought of it did nothing for him. The idea of an oasis, a waterfall, a sea.

He didn’t have time to sit with any of that info for long because the door opened and the man called Milan was walking in, expression wary and hesitant. Sander’s desire for his presence mere minutes ago drained in seconds as his brain started to process where he was again. A fear flooded back into his veins, and he jerked in an attempt to recoil from the guy’s touch. He expected to struggle against the restraints, but they broke as soon as he tugged. He only let himself revel in the confusion for a moment before he was glaring.

Milan held up his hands in surrender. “Let me explain. You’re not in danger.”

“What did you do to me?” Sander asked, yanking his ankles free of the cuffs at the foot of the bed and stumbling his way off the table and into a corner, the furthest he could be from Milan.

“I will explain everything,” Milan said, hands still in the air. He gave Sander a pleading onceover. “But this isn’t the place.”

When Sander glanced down at himself, he realized he was still in his own clothes. The same clothes from the night he- But how? This couldn’t be hell, and it certainly was no heaven, so why-

“How am I alive?” Sander asked brokenly. “Why am I alive?”

“Just come with me.”

“I’m not going-” Sander suddenly felt panicked, flashes of straight jackets and padded rooms filling his mind. “I’m not going there.”

“No,” Milan’s shoulders slumped with recognition, a sadness in his tone when he said, “You’re not.”

“I can’t trust you.”

“Sander,” Milan finally lowered his palms. “Do you feel a strength inside of you? You just broke those restraints. You’re not the same as you were before. I can’t ask you to trust me yet, but please, just come with me and I’ll give you the explanation you deserve.”

The door opened again to reveal the brunette from yesterday peeking her head in. Her nurse’s uniform looked a bit more ruffled, less clinical somehow. “Guys, now is the time.”

Milan didn’t take his eyes off of Sander. “That’s Noor. She’s coming with us.”

“We have to go,” Noor urged. “Lola gave the signal.”

Milan looked at Sander more desperately, more determined. “Come.”

He did feel the new strength in his body. He felt a power, something that he could use if Milan turned out to betray him. He also thought about the facts. None of this was adding up. If they were taking him to the institution, why not just do it already? Logically, he should be dead. Logically, if they wanted to take him there they would have done it when he was drugged out on morphine. On top of that, no one had ever looked at him the way Milan was looking at him right now. Like he meant something to him. Like he had something to offer. Like he could be understood for the first time in his life. All he had to do was make that choice and follow.

Above all else, Sander had nothing left. All he had was this new feeling of power somewhere in him and a man promising him answers. It had to be enough.

Sander took a step forward, and Milan’s relief was palpable. 

“Follow me.”

No one spoke as they made their way out of the hospital, Sander flanked by Milan and Noor. They walked with haste and a few people nodded at Milan in recognition. Noor stared ahead fiercely as she strutted through the hospital like she owned it. Sander was keeping an eye out for any of the doctors who had a hand in diagnosing him- he didn’t think he’d be able to forget a single one of those faces. Once they hit open air, Milan breathed a sigh of relief that had Sander feeling it too. He could tell they weren’t supposed to be doing this, extracting him from this wretched place, but they did it anyway. No one spoke as Milan opened the door of a car waiting out front, another person sitting in the driver's seat. She barely gave Sander a glance, her long brown hair shielding a cold expression. There were deep bags under her red-rimmed eyes but no one addressed it or the way her hands were a little shaky on the wheel. Sander was prompted into the backseat by a frantic Milan, and he watched the way Noor, now in the passenger seat, leaned over to give the unknown girl a kiss to her cheek. She muttered something under her breath but Sander couldn’t make it out, especially with Milan offering a nod toward the girl. “That’s Lola.” And then they were off, no more words exchanged for a long while.

Noor eventually reached for the radio, and then Space Oddity was filling his head. Sander flinched as every string on the guitar sounded clearer than ever before. He had listened to this song more than any other, and yet, it was like he was hearing it for the first time. His breath hitched as Bowie got to the bridge, and he had to close his eyes it was so overwhelming.

Sander felt so wonderfully comforted by the familiar sound of it. He hoped to God it was another sign, one that he hadn’t misplaced his trust.

“The beach house?” Milan asked. “It’s still safe?”

Lola nodded. 

“And you talked to Yasmina and Ivan?” Milan asked again.

“They’re on their way, didn’t want to be too suspicious in one car,” Noor answered this time. 

“Okay,” Milan turned so that his knees were facing Sander. “It’s a few hours away. Now would be a good time to explain.”

Noor smirked and did a 180 in her seat. “Can I do it?”

Milan rolled his eyes. “No, it’s my turn.”

“I’m better at it-”

“You’re literally not.”

“Milan-”

“You told Lola,” Milan spoke over her. “I tell Sander.”

Noor huffed as she opened the window, letting her arm hang out and fishing a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She put one of the sticks in her mouth, held it between two fingers, lit the end of it, and then took a drag, blowing the smoke out of the window with such a calmness that Sander tried to fight the urge to ask for one himself. He could use a bit of calm.

“Okay,” Milan exhaled. “Let’s begin.”

Vampires were not very well known in the 70s, so for Sander, it came as an absolute shock. He had seen a movie once called _Nosferatu_ when he was younger, tucked between the theatre seats with some friends from school. It had been a great break from reality back then, movies and music, but as Milan explained, he reeled at the idea of being like the vampire in that movie. 

He listened carefully as Milan explained that no, they were not like rabid animals. They had the strength, the speed, the thirst. They were able to live in peace with the humans without slaughtering an entire village when they had their thirst under control. If they wanted to, that is. They could still eat human food but it didn’t satisfy. Drugs, alcohol and weirdly enough, coffee all had an effect on them. To which Noor let out a long, “thank God.” The average good natured vampire fed on animals and the occasional human that let them. They were able to drink without killing a person. They had the strength to stop. There were vampires out there that killed for the thrill, humans and animals alike, but Milan’s people didn’t need to.

Milan, working in the medical field, had contacts throughout Europe that gave them access to blood. It was because of this that they tended to migrate to areas where those connections were strong so they didn’t have to rely on hunting. 

Sander felt weirdly numb to it all. He had believed himself to be broken, and now here he was. Stitched back together again thanks to the bite of a vampire. He trailed his fingers over the fading, small puncture wound on his neck as Milan continued to explain vampire blood. Different from human blood, they had about 30% coursing through them in comparison. Their skin was thick and wouldn’t easily be penetrated by normal weapons, and their healing abilities were unlike any other being that walked the earth. It was this that made them practically immortal. 

He then went on to explain that there were five members of the group. Milan’s mate, Ivan. Noor and Lola, also mates. And Yasmina, their most recent vampire before Sander.

(Sander told Robbe that Zoe came a few years later, but it was too long a story and not really his to tell.)

Sander learned that they had accumulated quite a bit of wealth, including three different properties across Europe. Lola swore under her breath that they’d have at least three more by the end of the century if things kept up, but Sander could hear it, ears prickling at the new sensation. 

“I was on my way to work when I smelled you,” Milan continued. “I brought you to the hospital and a doctor there said they recognized you. I found your file and saw that you…”

“That I’m insane?” Sander said, voice weak from lack of use. He had been fearing this the entire time Milan was talking.

“No,” Milan treaded carefully. “That they were planning to send you to an institution, and that you’d been resistant to the idea when they first mentioned it. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it happen.”

Sander felt anger igniting in his chest, sudden and blatant and not dissimilar to how he’d been feeling the past 48 hours. His brain was a mess. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, but he didn’t feel good. Was he supposed to say thank you? 

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“You wanted to go to the-”

“No, I wanted to die.”

Milan went quiet, conflicting emotions passing through his features, but Sander couldn’t find it in him to feel bad. The car went from being relaxed and light hearted to tense and awkward in seconds. It was too much information at once. He didn’t know how to even begin to process. Their happiness was hard to understand. He had never seen a group of people so comfortable and different, and he’d only known them for mere hours. A wave of bitterness dousing the anger in his belly. Milan stared awkwardly out the window, twiddling his fingers in his lap and flitting his gaze back to Sander every so often. Lola still had those grumpy, stone-cold eyes on the road in front of her, but he figured he would find out later what her deal was. It was Noor that reacted to the outburst first. She turned around and tossed her pack of cigarettes at his face, as if she could sense his fingers, his throat, his lungs had been itching for something. He caught them, his reflexes improved. 

She handed him the lighter. “Go on, I know you want to.”

Sander just looked at her. 

She leaned the side of her face on the car seat, gazing back intensely. “Look. I know your life was shit. But all of our lives were shit. You have no reason to trust us, but everything is about to get a whole lot better. I know you won’t believe it til you see it, but some day, you’ll get what I mean.”

Sander bit the inside of his cheek. Noor’s chocolate eyes were piercing. There was a carefree nature there, something that didn’t seem to belong in this century.

Lola looked at him through the rear view mirror. “She’s right.”

Sander’s eyes widened a bit as Noor delicately smoothed a few strands of Lola’s hair behind her ear. Sander suspected there was more going on there, and he found the whole thing rather bizarre. 

Milan placed a hand on his shoulder, but Sander shrugged him off.

“Everyone is here because we lived rough existences before. We’re here because we never felt like the world was fit for us. Didn’t you ever stop to wonder why? Why nothing made sense? Did you ever think that things may just be different had you been born into some other life? Some other time?”

Sander felt like his thoughts were open pages of a book splayed out in front of Milan.

Sander wasn’t ready to trust them. He wasn’t ready to laugh and joke. There was no way he’d be able to open up and tell them his life story right now, but there were no other options. A few hours ago he had been burning alive. A few hours before that he’d been actively trying to die. And now he was here, immortal, stitched back together by what these strangers figured was kindness. It was almost humorous how he couldn’t seem to get a damn thing right. But as they drove away from a town that had done nothing but hurt Sander, as he left behind the doctors who diagnosed him as insane, his parent’s who threw him to the masked men, and a life that broke him, he came to a decision. One more chance. He’d take them at their word.

Sander lit his cigarette and opened the window. Noor smirked and turned back around. 

“Atta boy.”

What followed was nothing short of difficult. Sander found it incredibly hard to adjust to his new life, not because it was worse than his old one by any means, but because being a vampire didn’t heal the demons that still lived in his head. 

He went rogue for a while. He still stuck with the group that had rescued him but would disappear for weeks at a time, no explanation and no remorse. This sparked various screaming matches with Milan that had Sander panicking afterward. He imagined being kicked out of their house and thrown to the wolves, much like his father had done to him in 1972 all those years ago now. There were insecurities that he didn’t belong with them, that he ruined their happiness, that he was _too much too much too much._

“I’m sorry,” Sander sobbed as he curled into a ball against a wall in a living room of a house in a new country. “I’m so sorry.”

Milan was crouching in front of him, careful not to touch. They had just finished yelling for the past hour, Sander saying anything and everything to get a rise out of Milan, to get him to scream back. He was in his self sabotage phase. He didn’t want Milan to kick him out but the voices in his head had him convinced it was inevitable. So of course, he screamed, and he crashed, and he burned again, and he waited. Milan was his father sitting in front of him ready to throw him to the mental institution. 

Until he wasn’t.

“Sander, just breathe,” Milan said softly.

Sander’s head was between his thighs and he was squeezing his hair into his fingers, backed into the corner of a cottage in the mountains this time. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Fuck- I can’t breathe.”

“You’re not going anywhere Sander, you’re staying with us.”

“Why?” Sander picked his head up to look at Milan, his eyes dark and heavy. “Please, just get it over with already. I can’t take the waiting.”

“I’m not doing that,” Milan was looking at him in a way that no one ever had. “You’re not disposable.”

“We’re here for you.” 

“It’s going to be okay.”

Fight after fight, and all Sander had gotten in return was understanding. Support. And it was almost impossible to hear or comprehend, every single time. He had only ever been someone to use. There was no choice but to give into temptation laid out in front of him. To let men and women do what they wanted with him. To disappear for weeks, spending days and nights alone at bars drinking until he couldn’t see straight. To try every drug known to man and vampire. Happiness was a long upward battle that presented itself in flashes of comfort and friendship in ways he’d never known, but it felt like forever before an ounce of it stuck. Every time that sense of belonging emerged, there was an evil little voice pushing right back, assuring him he didn’t and he never would.

It was the most painful part; wondering why he couldn’t be like the others. Why he couldn’t just accept his place in the group and turn off his brain. But that was precisely the problem. He could never shut it off, his thoughts were a never-ending vicious cycle. _On and on and on and on_. And while he became less afraid of abandonment through the 90s, the following decade was still a struggle. Because with Sander, there was always struggle. He had to work twice as hard as everyone else.

Sander often wondered if that voice would ever go away. 

And then came Robbe. 

\---

Robbe was so completely immersed that when Sander stopped talking he felt like he was startling out of a vivid daydream. But then he realized it was no dream, and he didn’t even know where to begin addressing Sander’s past. 

“I couldn’t understand… why it was so hard for me to adjust,” Sander shifted. “Of course, I’m still bipolar. Being a vampire doesn’t change that. It’s had its own difficulties but… seeing the world change its views on mental health has been…. It meant a lot to me.” 

Robbe squeezed his hand.

“Of course, it’s not perfect,” Sander looked up at Robbe gently, the sadness of his own story morphing into a look of empathy. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Robbe.”

Robbe couldn’t believe the similarities between them.

“She would have loved you.” He smiled something small before his train of thought started rolling again, for once the grief halted just briefly to make way for curiosity. 

Robbe had never felt more connected to another person in his life. There was something there, deeper than any of the words in his vocabulary could properly explain. He felt Sander’s past fully seep into his head, word for word as he’d told it. It was so much all at once, and yet things that Robbe hadn’t thought to question were suddenly making sense. He thought and he thought and he thought some more, hands still clutching Sander’s when a rogue and nagging notion popped out of nowhere.

He leaned back and huffed. “So, Yasmina?” _Traitor._

Sander let out a loud laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh yeah, you two should talk.”

Robbe sensed the other questions start pouring in his head, and then they were all fighting to come to the surface and be asked first.

“So,” Robbe thought carefully. “Milan’s mansion-”

“Oh, we share it,” Sander answered without further query. “I mean, they all live there. I spend a few nights a month with them. Milan looks a little bit older so it makes the most sense that we tell everyone it’s his.”

“And you- kill animals?” Robbe's voice sounded a little pitchy as he considered that one, brain not able to reconcile the words Sander and kill in the same sentence . “Sometimes?”

“Mmm,” Sander thought. “Yes, and no. We have a deal with a butcher a couple miles south. It rarely comes to that, though. The hospital here is very generous.”

Robbe once again wondered if he should have a greater reaction to that, but there was no time to be dramatic. He was so curious he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t get to ask the questions overflowing. If he didn’t get the answers he felt so desperate for now that the unknown was _known_.

“And you’ve never…. killed anyone?” Robbe asked, trying to keep his face neutral. It’s not that the thought bothered him necessarily, he just needed to know for his own sake.

“No one innocent,” Sander answered. “There have been situations where-” He stopped, freezing. He was looking at his own hands.

“Where?” Robbe leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of him and all he thought he knew.

“Where… we’ve had people after us in the past. It happens, you know, with territories. All is fine now.” Sander smiled, sprawling his feet forward and up onto Robbe’s lap. Robbe could sense a story there, but it could get in line behind the rest of his inquiries.

“So, the clan-” Robbe thought the word was fitting. If vampires existed, then some of the information out there had to be right. 

Sander interrupted him with a loud and sudden laugh, head dropping back against his seat as his shoulders shook. “The _clan_ , huh?”

And normally, Robbe may go a tiny bit on the defensive, but hearing a sound so lovely after all of the heaviness from the stories before filled him with a relief. Sander was okay. He was going to be better than okay for the rest of forever thanks to these people. He felt indebted to them himself for keeping Sander here, alive for Robbe to find and hold and love. Love? So he let Sander have the joke and just grinned right back at him, trying not to overthink for once.

“Yeah, _the clan_. They’re all still around then? Noor, Lola, Ivan?”

Sander’s eyes turned sad and his cheek twitched as he glanced at the balcony floor beneath them. Robbe suddenly felt bad for asking, but then Sander had an answer to sober them both up. “Ivan is gone. But it’s not… my story to tell.” He smiled weakly. “I’m sure Milan will explain it to you one day soon.”

Robbe nodded, understanding not to push. It was still a shock. They sat in silence for a few moments as Robbe felt a brief spike of panic at the mention of meeting the whole lot of them. Sander had told the story of his turning so well that Robbe could picture them all so vividly in his head, and it wasn’t even that they were vampires, but moreso, they were clearly important to Sander. 

“Super strength?” Robbe let yet another question slip before he could stop himself.

Sander leaned his back against the chair and smiled at Robbe, looking very amused. “You could say that.”

“Fast?”

“When we want to be.”

“Do you sleep?” Robbe asked. “Have you been faking it?” He remembered Sander falling asleep on his chest last week in the dorm room.

Sander laughed, and Robbe didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sound. A sound so endearingly human for someone that Robbe began to realize was so _not_. “I do sleep. I don’t necessarily need to, not every night. Certain things make me tired, like lack of blood, the sun, alcohol, when I have a low episode.” He paused, casually ticking things off on his fingers. “It’s sort of… an escape from the world when I’m feeling bad. You could imagine my shock when I became a vampire who’s still bipolar and needs depression naps.”

Robbe nodded, he was already wondering about the scientific aspects of all of this. “So- you can have food?”

Sander shrugged. “Yes, but it doesn’t taste like anything near as good as it did when I was alive. Alcohol and weed have almost no taste but they still have an effect on me. Coffee, too, since it’s essentially a drug.”

“Coffee addiction.”

“Mmm.”

“God, it all makes sense.”

“Does it?” Sander’s eyes widened. “I think I blend in pretty well.”

“Yes,” Robbe teased. “You’re just very weird.”

“Thank you so much.”

Sander visibly relaxed after that.

They spent the entire day talking, only stopping for Sander to make Robbe some food and then subsequently joke about his diet. Despite mouthfuls of food and random breaks of pulling each other into kisses, Robbe never ran out of things to ask about. Sander answered every single question thrown his way like he had been waiting his entire life, or at least the entirety of the time Robbe had known him, to get it all off of his chest, like he wanted to share every part of himself with the doe eyed boy in his living room. It was the only reason Robbe kept going, no need to stifle his curiosity when Sander’s mood was only getting better by the hour.It was completely due to the casual way Robbe was processing the news, and a relief settled into both of them as they decided to stay in for the rest of the day and night. 

He learned that Sander had discovered he was into more than just girls only a year after his transformation. It was something he had been trying to reckon with for a very long time, but back then, having even a gay thought was dangerous. Repression was easy until people, like Milan and his band of oddities came along, prodding at the deepest of Sander’s emotions. It was hard to hide anything from people that you would probably be living all of eternity with. 

It was late into the night when Sander stood up very suddenly and clapped his hands. “Come, I want to show you something.”

Robbe followed slowly, beckoned by a flirtatious wave of the hand. He led him to the second bedroom, the room Sander had declared his art studio. Robbe had yet to see this room in full, the only flash of it being when he’d pulled them into the wrong door what felt like a thousand years ago. He knew it was personal for Sander, and he never wanted to intrude so he’d never mentioned it, but now Sander was opening the door, a little jittery with excitement.

Robbe’s heart fell inch by inch with each step in, dropping all the way to the floor by the time he was surrounded.

It was an art studio, yes, but there wasn’t a centimeter of blank space on the walls. There were canvases and canvas itself lining the walls as well as black and white photographs on the far end that slowly turned to colour in all directions. Robbe just let his mouth hang open as he took it all in, and Sander chuckled from behind him. He laced his hand through Robbe’s, pulling him farther along. 

Sander led him to the beginning of it all on the far left. Robbe studied the first painting they stopped in front of. It looked to be of a beach house, standing merciless in the face of the shores. Elegant looking, as most of the properties Milan bought were, Robbe was learning.

“This is where they brought me,” Sander explained. “That first day I was turned.”

Sander led him slowly through each piece lining the walls, explaining the significance of these bits and pieces of his life. Robbe felt himself slipping, disappearing into Sander’s past with the emotionally charged strokes. He squeezed Sander’s hand tightly, reminding them both that they were here in the present. The first wall was mainly location-based, the bold environments sprawled out in an array of sizes. A hospital that Milan worked at, a concert venue. Bars and coffee shops and newspapers. The black and white pictures began on the second wall. Noor and Lola wearing flapper costumes, Lola’s amused eyes betraying whatever seriousness was on her face. Milan hanging upside down in a tree. Milan kissing a redhead the same height as him, their faces elated as they stood in a living room. There was no doubt in Robbe’s mind that that was Ivan. There was only one photograph of Sander sitting at a dining table with a newsboy cap on his head, his paper in front of him and a vintage coffee mug in his hand. Robbe couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“So you’ve always had this hair?” Robbe asked, noticing the bleach blonde peeking out in the photo and reaching up to bury a playful hand in the real thing.

Sander smirked. “Dyed it a week before I died, and it’s stuck every day since.”

“Wow.”

Yasmina started turning up in the photographs a few meters out, looking no different than she does today. Robbe’s heart sat pounding. Something about having a visual for this life they all lived grounded him to reality, gravity pushing those head-in-the-cloud thoughts just out of reach. It was suddenly seeming very, very tangible. Robbe had lived on this earth for twenty two years and he felt like the things life had thrown at him had aged him beyond his years, but Sander. Sander had been here for so much longer, his old life of pain and trauma morphing into one of a hope and beauty, almost. The yearning deep within his bones pulsed almost painfully, causing him to sway a little on his heels.

“Who’s this?” Robbe asked, looking at a photograph that appeared to be Zoe and a brunette man her age. They were sitting very close on a couch and laughing as they tried to pose.

Sander’s face saddened again. He didn’t speak.

“Like Ivan?” Robbe guessed, turning to take him in. “Not your story to tell?”

Sander closed his eyes and sighed, squeezing Robbe’s hand again a couple times in succession. “We’ve lost two members of _the clan_ ,” a moment of reprieve when a little smile came over his face at the term, “Ivan and him.” He pointed to the picture and Robbe followed. “Senne. He was human, Zoe too at the time of this photograph.”

Robbe nodded.

“There are bad things in this world too.”

“I understand,” Robbe knew better than anyone how it felt to talk about grief when you didn’t want to. “What about this one?” Robbe asked, changing the topic to the next painting.

Paintings of streets changing, of Antwerp then vs. Antwerp now. They spent some time in Paris because Lola’s family was from France. Sander could speak English, Dutch and French with a little bit of German sprinkled in, all thanks to their tendency to relocate. Robbe grinned when he saw photos of Sander in college in the nineties, the world as he knew it slowly coming into view. Sander told him about how he had studied Psychology once at a university, and Photography at another. Film too, somewhere awhile ago. When Sander died, he was studying Visual Arts which is why the thought of studying it again left a bad taste in his mouth through the decades, but there was something about settling in Antwerp. Something about the modernity of the moment. It was the street-art here that had inspired him to resume his studies in it, he told Robbe.

“And that’s pretty much all of it.” Sander announced once they had made their entire loop around the room, two sets of feet now firmly planted in the doorway. Nothing had physically changed while they’d been here, but that grounding to reality had shifted Robbe’s point of view completely. Robbe was only now able to take in the rest of the studio, easels set up in the middle of the room and stacks of blank canvases to the ceiling in the corner. It was messy and used and clearly a place for Sander to call home. There were old coffee cups on the desk by the window and brushes apon brushes sprawled on the ground and in random cups. Warmth burned in Robbe’s chest, the knowledge that he was trusted enough with this.

“It helps to cope with the passing of time,” Sander confessed softly. “To not feel so frozen.”

“It’s all so beautiful,” Robbe whispered with no hesitation, head swimming but feelings for once abundantly clear. Sander was biting the inside of his cheek, and Robbe knew that this was a lot to share with someone, to talk so candidly about. Robbe couldn’t help but wonder how he ended up here in this moment. Nothing about him was special enough for this. He didn't deserve to be let in on a secret of this magnitude. But it was also because of this, the amount of vulnerability on display, that he decided he’d do anything to protect such knowledge. The reality was that he _had_ been let into this life, no matter how much his brain taunted him with self doubt. Sander _had_ chosen him to trust with this, and Robbe felt this newfound significance wash over him. 

Overwhelmed, he spun around, gripped Sander’s shirt between his hands, and pushed him back against the door. Sander looked surprised when Robbe connected their lips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you,” Robbe spoke into the kiss.

Sander tipped his forehead against Robbe’s as he looked into his eyes, pulling back only a hair’s width. “For?”

“For finding me.” Robbe didn’t know how to voice all that welled up in his chest. How to tell Sander that he was grateful for the trust and for proving those malicious parts of his brain wrong for the hundredth time since they’d met. _Thank you for choosing me. For showing me this. For making me feel worth more than I am._

As Robbe slowly fell asleep that night, he wasn’t thinking about fangs or blood sucking or a furious inferno; but that Sander had made it to him despite existing in a past that had desperately tried to break him. That alongside the river of loss Robbe had faced, a sole promise had floated silently within the whole time, and it was one that led him right where he needed to be. 

\---

_Robbe was following a doctor wearing all white down a dark hall with no windows. It was freezing cold, and the dim lights were flickering. He hugged himself as he trailed behind, unable to help his curiosity._

_They stopped at a door at the end of the hall. Robbe watched as he put an ancient key into the lock and opened it. The door screeched an ugly sound, almost in warning._

_Robbe’s heart plummeted._

_Sander was sitting in a far corner wearing a straight jacket and pressing impossibly close to the padded wall. The floor was padded too. He had a mask over his mouth, a human muzzle, and his hair was hanging over his eyes, the life drained from them. Robbe had never seen someone so… defeated._

_Robbe ran past the doctor and into the room, dropping down beside him, but it was no use. He tried to grab Sander, to help him up so they could escape as the panic gripped him tighter, but Robbe’s hands went right through him. Sander looked right through him too, dead eyes unfocused and not recognizing. He couldn’t see Robbe, and neither could the doctor. He was a ghost, or maybe they were ghosts, but neither possibility comforted Robbe as he tried to touch him again and again and again._

_“Sander, please, look at me!”_

_The doctor offered no such politeness, roughly grabbing onto Sander’s hair and lifting him to his feet. He yanked Sander down the hall by his white locks, and Robbe ran after them to no avail. His feet weren’t fast enough. He watched and he watched and he watched, as the person he cared for was ripped from his own hands and taken toward his demise. Every part of him hollowed with each passing step._

_“Sander!”_

_He could still see Sander being dragged off to some horrific fate, as if it were on repeat before him.He was moving so slowly, his legs giving out. He fell painfully to the floor, sobbing. It was so cold, god, why was it so cold?_

“Robbe, hey, c’mon, wake up.”

Robbe violently jerked awake and upright. Every nerve ending lit up in shock, every hair standing on end. His eyes had hardly even opened, but he fell back to bed with a grace he didn’t feel. Sander was sitting up beside him, his sketchbook long forgotten on the bed in front of him as he leaned over Robbe’s head. Robbe slid his hands over his eyes, pushing almost painfully there as if to wipe away some of the grogginess. 

“Fuck.”

Sander let out a relieved little laugh, lips twisting in a way that said he knew the feeling. “I think you had a nightmare.”

Robbe dragged his hands over his face and up into his hair, trying to play into Sander’s good mood. Sander, smiling down at him. Sander, in the 21st century. Sander, safe in his expensive apartment with Robbe by his side. There it was again, that protective feeling pushing every other emotion out of its way. His dreams always lingered, the rotten feeling had left its impact, but Sander was here. Robbe lifted a tentative hand to his cheek and felt his wonderfully cool skin. That ugly imprint of his imagination practically melted on sight at the way Sander nuzzled into it and pressed a kiss to his palm. He was here. Robbe could feel him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sander asked, laying down to rest his arms on Robbe’s chest and look up at him. Robbe booped his nose to double check that he was awake.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell Sander, especially since it was a long time ago. He was sure Sander had long since put those fears to rest and there was no need to drag up old feelings. But at the same time, his mom had taught him to talk about bad dreams. According to her, the more you acknowledge them the less likely they are to happen again. And he really, really did not want that dream to happen again.

“You were…” Robbe cleared his throat. “You were in an asylum, and I watched you get dragged away. And I couldn’t stop it. I tried to get to you but I couldn’t. It’s like I was just a ghost.”

Sander listened to the details impassively. Robbe may have gone a little too in depth about the straight jacket, and the mask, and then he couldn’t help as his breathing got a little quicker and he felt the Sander in front of him slowly meld into the Sander of his dream, and he was suddenly being yanked away again, and Robbe couldn’t-

Sander moved to pull Robbe into his chest, and Robbe exhaled a deep breath. He focused on the softness of Sander’s skin and the sound of his breathing and the way he squeezed tighter, then let go. Tighter, then let go. Robbe looked up at him, and Sander smiled weakly.

“There’s a reason there’s a billion horror movies about that now. Things were getting better, but there was no way of knowing, and I-,” Sander sighed. “I was lucky.”

Robbe traced his jaw with his finger. 

“Thank you for telling me. I was mad at Milan yesterday for something dumb, but rehashing this reminded me that without him, I’d either be dead or in an institution. I’ll be sure to bow down next time I see him.”

Robbe choked out a surprised laugh. He hadn’t expected that response, but it hauled him back to earth, the present, in a way gravity never could.

Thoughts came and went, and with each, he pressed a small kiss against Sander’s cheek, until one looped into the orbit of his brain and stayed. It was momentary deja vu, the feeling of waking up panicked only to be held, kissed, comforted. It was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time, something that he often pushed beneath the surface when any sentimental memory tried to present itself. It was too painful sometimes, to remember growing up with _her_. They said to talk about lost loved ones was to keep the memory of them alive, but sometimes it was too painful. And he often succumbed to the pain and buried it deep by calling Jens to get high on whatever drug they could get their hands on, or by leaving the bar with someone a little dangerous looking, or by turning the hot water up in the shower just to feel his heart beat faster when the burning became too much. 

Only now he could feel her presence in the way that Sander was holding him, and the memory forced its way right past his tongue and teeth, straight out of his mouth.

“When I was little, I used to wake up a lot from nightmares. And my mom, she- she would come into my room and… and she would smooth back my hair and tell me stories of protective angels whose sole purpose was to shield me from my nightmares. I would always fall back asleep feeling so warm and safe and I really… genuinely thought she had summoned angels to watch over me.”

Sander listened as he played with a strand of Robbe’s hair, curling it and uncurling it with a ringed finger. It was so reminiscent of that feeling, of being safe and warm and protected like he always had with her. Robbe was hopeless to the dopey and sleepy smile stretching his lips. 

“That explains why you’re such an angel then,” Sander whispered. “A real life descendant of one, huh?”

Sleep was out for him though, giving him no chance to respond. His eyes wandered under the lids as he wondered if the same angels were watching over him now and if maybe, just maybe, one of them was his mom. He thought that if she were, she’d no doubt had a hand in bringing him to Sander. He rode that gratitude straight into sleep, a dreamless sleep shepherded by Sander’s sweet whisper. 

“My angel.” 

And then he was out like a light.

\---

The following Monday, Robbe walked to the library and realized that he knew something any number of books there couldn’t teach. It felt as if there were a giant elephant in this room. An elephant in this school, one that could conquer the world. He couldn’t help the smirk on his face as students hurried past him to get to class and talked about things like the assignment due at midnight, the party this weekend, the viral Instagram post. It all suddenly felt dull in comparison. Vampires walked amongst them. People that had been on this earth since the 1800s. It was all very strange, but something about it felt right. True. He now belonged to something bigger than just him even if he wasn’t a vampire himself. The knowledge alone held some kind of power.

He had always felt painfully ordinary. Always sitting comfortably in the background. The one laughing at the jokes rather than telling them. An option to go home with at a party, instead of _the_ option. Jens’s small friend. That used to be his life. Now it felt as though there was a new dimension, one he could see and manipulate, a plane privy only to some.

He was trying to find a coveted place to sit in the library when he spotted Yasmina in the corner. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, images of her in photographs from the 1980s popping into his head. She was sitting on the comfy leather chairs in the corner, her laptop on her legs, a Starbucks coffee on the table in front of her. She blended in so well, but now that Robbe knew what he did, there was something so timeless about her. Like she could fit in just about anywhere. Robbe was suddenly struck with an idea.

He went to the Horror Fiction section and scanned the shelves until he found what he was looking for. He tried to swallow the giggle sitting high in his throat and snatched the book he needed from its place. 

She looked up before he got to her, smiling.

“You look happy,” She said, taking a sip of her coffee and lowering the laptop halfway as if to pay him her full attention.

“Very,” Robbe said as he sat in front of her. “Had a good… bite to eat.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. “Why are you acting weird?”

“Hm?” Robbe asked as he put his bag on the floor and opened the book from the shelf. The cover read _Dracula_. “Oh I’m fine. A little thirsty, but fine.”

Her eyes scanned the cover of the book and then flitted back up to his face. She leaned against the seat and crossed her arms, tapping her finger in waiting. She wanted him to give up the game only a couple seconds in, but he was having too much fun. 

“You should get something to drink then,” She replied. “Wouldn’t want your throat hurting.”

“Oh, maybe I will,” He looked up at her. “Perhaps I'll order from Starbucks, you know. With the app. _Imagine living in a time without cell phones? I couldn’t even-_ ” He repeated what she had said to him a few weeks ago in a mock petulance.

Yasima’s eye roll was deep and well-played, but her smirk betrayed her. “Imagine having to constantly be the smartest in the room.”

“Mmm, you definitely wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?,” Robbe dramatically flipped a page in the book. “Imagine having multiple different properties throughout Europe.”

“Imagine being Biology partners with a dumbass.”

Robbe recoiled playfully at the insult. “Okay, ouch.”

“So he told you?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re taking it quite well.”

“Am I?” Robbe put the book down on his thighs, grinning. “Any pointers?”

She nodded to his lap. “Yeah, don’t listen to fiction. You’ll be playing a game of russian roulette with true and false.”

Yasmina closed her laptop, sliding it into her bag along with her phone, and Robbe just stared at her. “So there’s some truth in googling?”

Yasmina shrugged as she stood up and tossed her bag over her shoulder. “Maybe. Good luck.”

“Where are you going?” Robbe asked and then glanced down at his watch. Not that he knew her schedule, but he didn’t figure she had class in the moment, looking more ready to head out than gear up for a day of work.

“I have to hand in an assignment to Britt. Then I’m going to yell at Sander for not giving me a heads up.”

“Britt?”

“Our TA?”

“Oh, that’s her name?” He guessed he’d been a little too distracted this semester.

Robbe could hear her groan out, “Oh God, Robbe,” as she walked away.

Robbe stayed staring at the spot she had stood for several moments, and then he was springing to action again, a ball of energy with all of this newfound knowing. Sander aside, vampires were _interesting._ Especially trying to decipher what exactly was true. He thought of all the times he had made fun of Jens for doing exactly what he was doing now, typing vampires into Google and hitting search. Despite having actual proof that they existed he still felt rather ridiculous as he skimmed articles upon articles about vampire lore, all of which contradicted itself. This really was russian roulette. He thought about what he knew of Sander, what Sander had confirmed and denied already, and how there were still a billion questions running through his head. He spent some time reading about vampire hunters in the 1950s and felt a flash of concern. Magic, specialty weapons, spells and traps and blood and witchcraft, all of which he had a hard time buying into. According to the article, there used to be many underground organizations utilizing these techniques, but they have since died out. Again, Robbe had no idea how to tell which parts were fiction and which warranted genuine worry. Most things he read circled back to the obvious and very public-friendly versions of these ‘monsters.’ Pale, aversions to sunlight, stakes through the heart. Some of it was funny, even before he’d known, but he had a feeling certain things would prove to be true and choke that laughter right out of him. At least he had Sander to answer those burning questions.

Speaking of burning, Robbe’s eyes were in pain by the time he realized he was maybe too invested in his research. When he lifted his head to look around the library he was met with an orange glow hitting the bookshelves as the sun began to set. He sat back and stretched his aching neck. Robbe hated the endless stream of inquisition provided by his subconscious and the fact that he knew it’d never cease. Science was his thing. Facts were his thing. He wished there was some sort of guide to textbook vampirism because this constant fact checking would be the death of him at this point. 

Robbe aggressively fished his phone from his pocket.

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ i’m mad

 _earthlingoddity:_ Hi mad, I’m Sander.

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ i’m coming over

 _earthlingoddity:_ Now I’m scared.

 _sterkerdanijzer:_ ha. ha.

Robbe was lost in his head as he darted for Sander’s apartment. He needed answers, or he might just have to scream. 

The door was already swinging open before Robbe could knock. Robbe wondered how many times Sander had heard him arrive and chosen to wait until he knocked anyway. Robbe dramatically cleared his throat as he trotted past Sander, who was holding a watering can, and threw his bag on the dining room table. Robbe felt around for his notebook and pulled it out as Sander pecked the back of his head and resumed watering the plant standing tall by the balcony.

“Okay,” Robbe said as Sander inspected the pant’s leaves. “I did some research.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Robbe fell onto the couch.

Sander chuckled as he watered one on top of the piano next. Sander had told Robbe that he kept so many plants because it helped him to take care of something alive. Robbe frowned at that, not liking the thought of Sander considering himself dead. Sander was the most lively person Robbe had ever met. He was beautifully flawed and he may not be human, but everything important about being human was still there within him. He _felt_ human. Regardless, Robbe watched him from his cross legged position on the couch, notebook on his lap, and noticed the way Sander’s face lit up when he saw that a plant was doing well. It was all so endearing. And _so_ unlike everything he’d been reading.

Robbe hummed as he retreated to his chaotic brain. “You… sparkle-”

“No.” 

Robbe crossed it off the list. “Listen, I know this is all very cliche, but I kept seeing stuff about coffins-”

“No.”

Robbe crossed it off.

“Does your throat always hurt?”

“Nope.”

“Can you suck a human’s blood without killing them?”

“Yes.” Sander was leaning against the piano, expression unreadable as he fiddled with his watering can.

Robbe froze, looking up from his page. Suddenly every nagging need for answers vanished into thin air as _this_ concept materialized and desired pulsed low in his abdomen. He had brushed past this possibility on Google, so ready to write it off as absurd, even if the thought alone sparked something primal in him, and yet… Sander hadn’t hesitated to confirm, no laughs to be heard. “ _What?_ ”

Sander frowned, confused. “I thought I mentioned that already.”

“No... you definitely didn’t.” Robbe stared. He was astounded this hadn’t been brought up yet. Sander was aware of this? _And he hadn’t mentioned it?_

“I did,” Sander was certain. “I told you what Milan initially told me when I was turned.”

Robbe dramatically covered his face with his hands as he recalled the onslaught of information he had learned the past week. “Sander, you told me so much that day I can’t even remember half of-”

Sander let out a loud laugh, his laugh lines evident on his face. “Okay, well, that one is true. Any more questions?” He looked a little eager to move on.

Robbe’s hands fell from his face to look at Sander as he prepared to form words he had never imagined coalescing before. At least not in the context of Sander, the guy he was dating, the guy who was a vampire. “So you can… suck my blood?”

Sander bit the inside of his cheek, looking at the wall behind Robbe’s head. He seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact. His hand was mindlessly fiddling with the end of his Bowie shirt and he seemed a little bouncy on his bare feet. Robbe waited, not wanting to push but also unable to ignore the wave of impatience washing over him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what _that_ might feel like. 

“I can,” Sander spoke carefully. “But I won’t… I’d never ask that of you.”

Robbe couldn’t help the smile that crossed over his face. The answer was so Sander that he should have expected it, and his next words came tumbling out with ease. “You’re so cute.”

Sander finally looked at him, eyebrows furrowing as if he didn’t expect that reaction. “Hey, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” Robbe started giggling at the foolishness of the situation. “Suck my blood.”

“Robbe.” Sander warned, mouth opening and closing as if some part of his brain had malfunctioned. As if he hadn’t fully allowed himself to think of that. His eyes were growing darker by the second, and Robbe knew he was holding back. 

Robbe wondered how long a vampire would last if someone openly offered them blood. He supposed it was dependent on the individual, but how long would Sander be able to hold out? Robbe thought back to all of the teasing Sander had put him through since they’d met, and then he stood up, rolling out his joints and sliding over to Sander. He liked a good challenge, and even more than that, he liked that he had this effect on Sander. Sander could be stubborn when he wanted to be, firm in the things he believed, but little did he know Robbe could be too. And now that this was on his radar, he made up his mind on spot. It was something he wanted. 

Robbe stopped mere centimeters before their toes met on the hardwood, voice stooping to something low, an attempt at sultry. “Bite me.”

Sander shifted against the piano, hands forming fists at his sides. His eyes were black now, and Robbe thought he knew what that meant. Desire. Want. _Thirst._ To see that expression come over his face after two words had Robbe feeling amped up.

“Bite me.” He said again, gripping onto Sander’s shirt.

Sander surprised him by snapping right out of it, expression going from dark and serious to sheepish and cute. He was back to looking human-sized, and while Robbe liked both versions, he was thrown off by the immediate shift of mood.

“Hey, now _I’m_ being serious.” Robbe repeated what he said. He playfully kissed Sander’s cheek and tugged at his shirt again.

Sander pulled him over to the couch and sat down. Robbe longed to have the upper hand so crawled right into Sander’s lap, straddling his legs and wrapping a casual arm over his shoulder. Sander looked up at him with an adoration only he could pull off, and then it was his turn to grip the collar of Robbe’s shirt and bring his face closer, kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re sweet.”

“Sander.”

“I know you’re serious,” He said sincerely, looking into Robbe’s eyes. “But I can’t- I can’t stand the thought of hurting you. Even on accident, I’m not-”

“Google said it’s not really like that.” Robbe said it as a joke, but he still internally smacked himself for how stupid it sounded.

“Oh google said so?” Sander teased. “Then we must listen to her.”

Robbe tilted his head. “Sander I-,” Robbe hesitated. There was no better way to say this. “I really want to.”

Robbe took a moment to sort through the feelings in his head. He wondered what it said about him that he was so eager to try something like this. Maybe it was old habits dying hard. Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown. The more he thought about it the more he figured it was both of those things, but there was one more that overpowered the two. It was the thought of giving this to Sander, the thought of handing over a part of himself to the blonde boy who had already given _him_ everything he needed and more. An opportunity was unraveling itself right in front of his eyes, and it was too much to pass up. His brain was on fire at the mere thought.

“Let’s make a deal, okay?” Sander cupped the back of Robbe’s neck. “How about you sit with it for forty eight hours? After that, if you still want to, we will.”

Robbe stared harder. “My mind isn’t going to change-”

“Maybe not, but I'll feel better about it, Robbe. Please?”

Robbe swallowed down his impatience and exhaled. “Okay.” If that was all he had to do in order for Sander to feel the most comfortable and safe about it, of course he’d wait. Two days was nothing.

He didn’t think he’d have to worry about the toll waiting must have taken on Sander, but it was only twenty four hours before Sander was the one to break.

They found themselves at the library. Robbe had been getting increasingly more distracted by Sander at his apartment and had abruptly closed his books and demanded that they go somewhere where they could both focus. Where he couldn’t be so tempted. Sander had agreed to come simply because he, too, had assignments piling up, and with Robbe around more and more these days, there wasn’t enough time to really stay on top of them. They were at a table near the middle of the library, and Robbe was hard at work on his laptop. Sander though, in his most valiant efforts of procrastination, tried to spark games of footsie. He’d start hooking Robbe’s feet with his own, waiting until Robbe smiled, and then returning to his work once he’d well and truly ruined both of their concentration for a couple seconds. The game continued for the hours, and the pile of work felt unending.

Sander groaned and leaned down to hit his head against the desk. “I am an idiot.”

Robbe just shook his head from behind his laptop. “What’s up?”

“Math. I could be 200 years old and I still wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s your artsy brain. What’s the question- Shit-” Robbe was shuffling through his papers when he accidentally slid his finger over the corner a little too fast. He brought his hand to his chest and saw that he had given himself a paper cut, the blood trickling down his thumb.

He stopped. He looked up slowly at Sander to see him staring at the blood with an unreadable expression, eyes flitting from his finger to Robbe’s face to make sure he was alright. Robbe had never been queasy about blood, because how could he be? His body was littered with scars from his past. He had become far too comfortable with the sight of it. Sander’s eyes wandered up to deeply look at him for a final time, gaze black as night, and Robbe held his stare, letting a snarky smirk spread on his face. Then, he brought his thumb up to his mouth and pushed it between his lips, slowly sucking the blood from his finger.

Sander’s whole body seized up as he watched, his jaw working around no words.

Robbe tilted his head. “What was that about forty eight hours?”

“We’re going home.” Sander started gathering his papers. “I mean- if you want. Only if you want.”

“Mm,” Robbe sat back in his chair, examining his new wound with an unbothered, almost bored look. “I think I still need the whole time slot.”

Sander sank lower into his own seat and set the papers back down. Shaky fingers came up to cover his face. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking with-”

“Sander, I’m teasing.”

“You’re positive?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

A few people watched them hurriedly pack up their things, as if they’d just gotten news that the world was ending. Robbe had to bite back a laugh when Sander grabbed Robbe’s hand and pulled him out of the library, Robbe’s human legs having to work overtime to keep up. When they arrived back at the apartment, Robbe made a beeline to the bedroom and stripped down to his boxers without thinking. Sander could only watch.

“What? I’m just assuming things might get-” Robbe began.

Sander was standing at the edge of the bed, pacing back and forth. Robbe was certain he should be the one that was more nervous, but he trusted Sander with every fibre of his being, so he was feeling rather calm about it all.

“Yes, I mean-” Sander paused. “Maybe. Possibly.”

Robbe propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re the boss.”

Sander leaned forward, hands on the bed. “No, no I’m not. We both have to agree.”

“Well, yeah, I’m just saying, you’re the one sucking my blood so you’re the b-”

“Robbe.”

“Sander.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Robbe couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of his mouth. He crawled to the edge of the bed where Sander was posed, thinking, and looked into his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Sander closed his eyes, and Robbe cupped his face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “Listen. I want this. I really do. But if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

Sander opened his eyes. He scanned Robbe’s face for a moment, eyes moving from his lips to his throat. He then shifted to grip Robbe under his arms and give him a small toss up the length of the bed. Robbe landed perfectly on the pillows, and Sander was straddling him no more than a second later. Robbe didn’t think he’d ever get used to how attractive that combination of enhanced strength and speed really was, his entire body already on fire with it. His eyes found Sander’s as he leaned down, stopping only a breath away from his lips.

“I want this. I want you, more than anything,” Sander’s voice husky, not with disuse but rather desire. “You need to promise me you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much. At any point.”

“I promise.” There was no hesitation there, only impatience.

“Robbe, I’m serious-”

“Sander,” Robbe interrupted. “I promise. Out of respect for both of us, I’ll tell you if I absolutely hate it. But right now, I want it so bad-”

“Shhh,” Sander teased Robbe’s lips with a gentle kiss. “Okay.”

He placed another delicate kiss on Robbe’s lips. Something about Sander’s purposeful, soft movements left Robbe squirming. Everything with Sander was so consistently hot and sensual, no matter the tone of the evening. Robbe gripped the sheets in his hands, needing to hold something and not wanting to disrupt Sander’s work. Sander dropped more kisses to Robbe’s cheeks, and then his jaw, and finally trailed his lips down to Robbe’s neck. Robbe tensed up completely and let out a small noise, finally coming to terms with what was about to happen.

Sander placed one hand on the side of Robbe’s head to still him, and then he was biting.

Robbe had expected pain, and while there may have been a brief pinch, it was completely overshadowed by the absolute wave of euphoria that hit immediately.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was the feeling he felt the first time Sander’s sharp green eyes found him from across the room and his heart felt like it had been restarted. It was a sharp intake of breath when something startled him and snapped back to reality. It was his stomach dropping when he flew down a hill on his skateboard and he was suddenly wonderfully aware of his existence, that he was alive. He didn’t know what temperature he felt, because it wasn’t too hot or too cold, but he wouldn’t call it warm either. It was a temperature that had never been named before, a golden light painting his body. In shelter. In safety. In trust. He suddenly felt so remarkably happy as he arched his back and let out a moan, tilting his throat for even more exposure. Sander was gripping the side of his head and sucking his blood and the exhaled hot air against the skin on Robbe’s neck might as well have been legitimate flame. 

Robbe didn’t think there was a name for what he felt was happening to him. Only that above it was an immense gratitude that he was able to give Sander this, and Sander was able to give this _feeling_ in return.

It felt easy to lose track of time, so Robbe did. When Sander pulled away it was like he was being woken up from a dream, suddenly aware of how heavy and drained his body felt. Sander lapped at the skin that he had just sunken his teeth into, planting hickies there to hide the small but recognizable marks of a vampire. When he finally pulled away to hover above Robbe, his lips were tinted a raw red with blood, and Robbe could only surge up to kiss those lips with words that said _I take you as you are._

Sander kissed him back before collapsing beside Robbe in pleased contentment. 

“I’m going to get you some juice.”

Robbe frowned, half rolled to meet his eye. “Juice?” He croaked with a voice fragile.

Sander sped to the kitchen and back in under five seconds, holding a juice box in one hand and a granola bar in the other. “I don’t want you feeling dizzy.”

Robbe couldn’t help the giddy laugh that escaped as Sander put the straw in the box for him and handed it over. Robbe took a bite of the granola bar that Sander fed to him and gulped down the juice in seconds. Sander couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off of his face. His eyes were a vibrant, bright green. The brightest Robbe had ever seen them. 

Sander pulled Robbe close then, squeezing him tightly. He didn’t need to ask Robbe if he enjoyed it, if he loved it or hated it. Robbe’s face mirrored Sander’s, he already knew, a smile so wide he thought it just might get stuck that way. It was a feeling that transcended words, but they had both known it now.

Robbe snuggled up against Sander’s chest and sighed. He felt weak, a little drained and sleepy, but content. 

He was in that space right before drifting off, the one filled with possibilities of tomorrow and hopes for the future, when he thought he heard a quiet, “I love you so much.” 

There was no way to be sure if that was right, if he was even meant to hear such a thing, because all at once, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you that skipped the triggering parts mentioned in the beginning notes, here's what happened: sander's parents were essentially going to force sander into a mental institution (which he considered more of an asylum) after his diagnosis of "manic-depressive illness" as they called it back then. sander takes this as a sign to commit suicide, so he attempts, but is found by milan and turned into a vampire. the flashback is him getting the rundown of vampire life, and he struggles and he struggles hard to feel like he belongs anywhere.
> 
> \---
> 
> anyway, hello! i hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> y'all are just going to have to get used to me praising emma in the end notes of every chapter..... because oh my god. she deserves it. editor doesn't feel like enough of a title for how much help she has gave this fic. yesterday she spent the ENTIRE DAY going through it and making suggestions/editing/making me laugh and i truly......... don't know where i would be without her. she's my editor/muse/mayor of vamp!sander universe. NO TITLE IS ENOUGH FOR HER. SHE'S THAT POWERFUL.
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe
> 
> emma's tumblr:  
> lolahydri


	3. all these things that i've done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> \- grief/mourning 
> 
> \- alc/drug addiction (in the past) turned withdrawal symptoms 
> 
> \- character death (you already knew who, but, it's explained in more detail here)

Robbe hadn’t felt true terror like this in a very long time.

Christmas break marked the day that it was finally time for him to meet the _clan._

Sander had explained to Robbe that while they all shared the mansion, Sander himself owned two other places in Belgium. His apartment, and a cottage some miles north. 

Those 3am half-truths were beginning to lose that tone of insecurity and fear of the unknown, of commitment. They were beginning to come out of the woodwork, one day at a time, inch by inch. It wasn’t easy, but progress was an uphill battle. Robbe continued to struggle to get the words out, tangled knots in his throat that pulled and pulled and pulled, but the difference was that he wanted to now. He wanted to drop a subtle past memory into conversation when time called for it, or let the midnight snow motivate him to talk about his mom, and Sander’s enthusiasm was positively contagious. If Robbe’s words were tangled knots, Sander’s were fighting to be told all at once. And since it had been decided that Robbe would join him for Christmas break after a phone call from Milan that left no room for Robbe to say no, Sander hadn’t stopped beaming. 

Another truth shared over morning coffee, using the kitchen countertops as seats and waiting until the last moment Robbe had to leave for class. Sander was tracing his finger along the top of his vintage mug as he echoed his history with the cottage. A place of solace. Away, quiet, invisible. He had more art supplies there than he did at his apartment, and his best friend was an old wooden canoe that he brought out to the water just to breathe. Naturally, it became a spot that the rest of the group used for a little getaway when Sander wasn’t using it, and now it was tradition that they spend Christmas break there. Sander couldn’t stop describing how beautiful it was in the winter. (“Huge icicles, Robbe, huge!”)

It wasn’t in Robbe’s nature to be such a pessimist, because he was looking forward to it, but his own insecurities gnawed at him. The thought of intruding made him cringe every second too long on it. He hadn’t forgotten Milan’s party all those weeks ago. Surely it wouldn’t be like that? Of course it wouldn’t, but the vibe? Would the vibe be the same? A little upscale, out of his league? It couldn’t be. This was a cottage. A cottage meant canoes, and smores, and nature. 

Robbe’s anxieties continued into the moment they left.

“Are you sure?” Robbe asked as they packed the trunk of the car. Robbe and Sander were driving up separately and meeting the rest of the group there. Sander offered to carry Robbe’s bag down and out to the car, but he had refused. Vampire strength was no excuse for him not to pull his own weight. “Like, are you sure it’s not family-only?”

Sander was shutting the trunk with an amused smile on his face as a couple of snowflakes caught in his icy hair and eyelashes. Robbe had asked this question at least fifty times, yet Sander answered each one with unwavering patience. “Let’s put it this way. If I didn’t bring you there would be mass disappointment and I would be harassed until I came back and got you.”

They climbed into the car, and Robbe dropped his head back against the seat in surrender, his own ugly thoughts falling to the wayside in favour of Sander’s comfort. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Sander grinned, he slid into the front seat, and revved up the engine. Then, he clapped his hands together and said in what Robbe guessed to be his best impression of an overenthusiastic camp-counsellor, “Who’s ready for some fun?”

“Once I’m certain I won’t be eaten alive by vampires, then, sure,” Robbe replied, half-joking.

Sander just laughed as he pulled out of the parking spot, flicking the volume knob up in one swift motion. Robbe was in no way surprised when Bowie filled the car.

The cottage was a few hours away, so Robbe leaned his seat back a bit and got comfy. Despite the snow flurrying from the sky, Robbe rolled down his window and let one hand brace against the cool air whipping past them. He closed his eyes and listened as every new Bowie song prompted an increasingly theatrical voice from Sander. It might as well have been the sound of angels singing, because Robbe found himself remembering a time where he needed more than this to feel something. A life-threatening act, a pill under his tongue, a leap of faith. But he supposed, being with Sander was his own leap of faith. Robbe’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his hand going numb as the hell-bent winds smacked against it, and it was only when Sander attempted to hit Freddie Mercury’s high note in Under Pressure that Robbe looked at him, uncontrollable giggles spilling out of his mouth. 

When Robbe’s hand fell back into his lap, Sander shut the window. Sander finally turned the volume down and held Robbe’s hand near the gear shift, an exhale signalling he was done singing for the time being. 

Quite possibly the second best thing that Robbe had learned about vampires (next to the blood sucking, surprisingly) was that they were able to slightly adjust their temperature with some serious mental focus. Sander’s default setting was ‘cool’, but he had once explained that if he ever wanted to warm up, all he had to do was imagine himself somewhere sunny. Granted, the sun could be a bit harmful for them, but not when he was in his own head. It was kind of an obsolete practice nowadays, as vampires didn’t feel temperature in the same conventional sense. 

All of that to say Sander’s hand warmed, a soft light in Robbe’s palm. Sander relaxed against the driver’s seat, elbow perched on the window and hand on the wheel. His eyes squinted a bit and Robbe could visibly see him falling away into his thoughts. It was as Sander always did when he was a little-too in his own head, but Robbe was learning to tell the difference between his more-troubled thoughts and- this. Eyes only partly there. Bottom lip twitching. 

“What are you thinking about?” Robbe asked, turning to face him and leaning his cheek against the seat. He hoped Sander would never grow tired of that question, Robbe’s curiosity was a never-ending road. Sander always perked up when Robbe asked, the laugh lines by his eyes digging deeper into his skin, so Robbe didn’t plan on slowing down any time soon.

“When Yasmina first told me that you had asked about me.”

Robbe’s cheeks warm as colour flooded his cheeks. Traitor was becoming Yasmina’s middle name. “Oh no.”

Sander laughed. “She’s going to tease. So bad.”

“Any last minute pointers?” Robbe asked, running his thumb over the top of Sander’s hand. He quietly studied Sander’s face as he stared ahead, looking for any signs of doubt. He couldn’t help it. It was still difficult to believe this group of people wanted to meet _him._

Sander seemed to think for a moment, humming as he tapped his finger mindlessly against the steering wheel. “They’re going to love you.”

“That's not a pointer!”

Sander snuck a glance at Robbe as he laughed. “You don’t need any. Vampire senses. I just know.”

Robbe figured that was a load of bullshit, certain that Sander’s senses didn’t include mind reading or predicting the future, so he took to staring out the window again. He practiced breathing deeply for the remainder of the drive as nerves bellowed up to his chest. Sander’s senses were good enough to read that, though, so he kept their hands intertwined and hummed along with Bowie. Robbe thought about all of the times words had failed him and hoped to God he didn’t become a blubbering mess the second he was in their presence. 

Robbe hadn’t asked many questions about the cottage, certain that his description he’d constructed in his head was clear and accurate enough. He had listened to Sander talk about the lake, the campfire, his paintings, fishing, the mountains they could snowboard on, etc, but he had thought the actual cottage itself would be the stereotypical small wood cabin with creaking flooring and a smell of firewood.

He was feeling rather dumb now, considering this was Milan’s family, and Milan owned a mansion.

Sander’s cottage was a two story brick house with a fully finished basement and many, many windows. The front lawn had an outdoor, roofed porch with dangling lights and a firepit in the middle, and Sander was chuckling beside him as Robbe’s eyes roamed over the Christmas lights along the porch, fitting alongside the coverings of pearly white snow. The deck had an expensive looking boat docked, and a canoe lay beside it, also covered in a layer of snow. Robbe took a moment to imagine Sander here by himself in the summer and he didn’t need to be a vampire for a warm feeling to spread over him. 

Sander parked the car as Robbe gawked at the view in front of him. Two other black Masserati’s were parked and Robbe felt a spike of nerves when he realized they were the last to arrive. The sun was hanging low in the sky as Sander opened his passenger door, waggling his eyebrows. Sander immediately threaded his fingers through Robbe’s and flashed him a smile, reading him like a book. Robbe knew everything he was feeling showed on his face, he was plagued with an inability to hide a damn thing.

Robbe knew who they all were from the photographs and pictures on Sander’s phone, but it was still a shock to see them in person. Lola was currently spotting her famous frown as she balanced Noor on her shoulders who was trying to put a dented-looking star on top of the tree. Robbe watched as Noor gracefully stood up on Lola’s shoulders to reach the top point, and Lola let out a yell as Noor kicked her in the face. Zoe and Yasmina were on the couch, Zoe laying with her feet in Yasmina's lap and smiles exploding on their faces when their eyes landed on Robbe.

Robbe only had a brief moment to gawk at the inside of the cottage next. It looked like a cabin. The living room was a huge area with a big black leather couch, two matching loveseats beside it. There was a magnificent stone fireplace with a flat screen TV on top of it, and a dark brown hardwood table with, unsurprisingly, fake succulents. Beside the fireplace was the biggest yet plainest Christmas tree that Robbe had ever seen, stretching all the way to the ceiling. To the right of the couches was a clear screen door spreading from the floor to the ceiling to look out at the lake. To the left was the dining room area, a huge dining table to fit everyone and a Sinterklaas tablecloth on top. Past this was the kitchen with the highest quality appliances, marble countertops, a marble island in the middle and a stocked fridge. The upstairs was visible from down, the stairs leading up to a balcony-type hallway with what looked to be four bedrooms, each with a bathroom inside.

Robbe was pulled back to the present by Sander squeezing his hand and another loud, aggravated yell coming from in front of him.

“This is the dumbest tradition we have,” Lola grumbled, wincing as Noor almost lost her balance. “Put the star on last, it’s not that difficult. Hi Robbe.”

“Robbe!” Milan appeared from the kitchen sporting an ecstatic grin on his face and an overtly confident pep in his step. His voice rang as he said: “Oh, Sander, he’s cute.”

“Hi,” Robbe cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. He felt obligated to reply, “Sorry, we didn’t meet at your party, we were-”

“A little busy,” Milan winked and immediately engulfed Robbe in a hug, and Robbe was hit with a wonderful smell of fresh mint. When he pulled back, he placed a hand on Robbe’s back and led him into the house, and a blush made its way onto Robbe’s face. Robbe was used to being shorter than most, but he was surprised at just how much he had to crane his neck when Milan was beside him. Less surprising was the eccentric energy that Milan carried with him, that much Robbe had assumed from the sorts of parties he threw and all that Sander had informed him of. Robbe could also tell why Milan was considered the leader of their group. He left no room for awkward introductions or uncomfortable conversation as he sprung to action. “I’m going to grab your bags-”

Milan disappeared and returned in the next second, holding Robbe and Sander’s bags from the car, and though Robbe was used to seeing Sander do that, it still made his mind spin.

“Okay, let me show you upstairs.” Milan pulled him forward and Robbe’s hand slipped from Sander’s. Sander winked when Robbe looked back, as if to wish him _good luck._

Robbe caught Noor and Lola’s continued bickering out of the corner of his eye, and he was grateful all eyes were not on him. The two were too busy having a discussion about the ‘lame tradition’ to pay much attention, Noor’s blunt-cut hair falling in strands around her face as she hopped down from Lola’s shoulders. Robbe tore his eyes away from them as Milan led him through the house.

Milan presented each room to him as if he was on a reality TV-show, dramatically explaining the work he had demanded putting into it when Sander started inviting them for Christmas. When they reached the end of the hall Milan tossed the two bags onto the bed. The room was massive with a king bed in the middle, blue walls, a window that took up half of the wall, and paintings filling the rest of it. It was the sight of a palette resting on the windowsill, a specific painting of a canoe in the middle of the lake, and a tall potted plant in the corner that had Robbe’s nerves loosening in his chest. This was Sander’s room.

He could feel Milan watching him from his periphery, and Robbe blinked one, twice, to stop himself from overthinking. This was his safe space too. Milan took his cue, clapping his hands together. “Okay, that’s everything. I turned on the heat for you and- oh! I made a stir fry before we head out for the campfire.”

This was one of the things Robbe had feared most. Guilt made itself known in his chest. “Oh- you didn’t have to, really. I could have eaten something-”

“No way,” Milan grabbed Robbe by his shoulders and led him back down the hall. Robbe had to work extra hard at not stumbling over his feet. “No complaining about us cooking for you while we’re here. New rule.”

Sander joined them in the kitchen once they’d made it back downstairs, giving Robbe a shy smile as Milan placed the food in front of him. Robbe sat on one of the stools beside the island and watched Milan watch him. It was a look of patient anticipation as he waited for Robbe to take the first bite, as if he’d get some sort of fulfillment watching humans eat food. Sander frowned at Milan, an exchange Robbe had only envisioned through Sander’s stories up until now.

“You’re being weird.”

“I am not,” Milan said as Robbe silently took a bite. “Well?”

 _Oh,_ Robbe thought, flavour exploding on his taste buds. Oh _wow._ The stir fry truly was perfect, but on top of that, Milan was hard to say no to, and Robbe found himself wanting to fulfil Milan’s obvious wish for validation. His eyes were still flickering back and forth between Robbe’s mouth and his eyes, so Robbe gave him a smile and an “amazing” before thinking better of it. Milan deserved more than that, something to resemble his own dramatics, so Robbe took a second bite, drumming up his own courage, and then clapped as he said, “Beautiful, actually. Best stir fry I’ve ever had.”

“Oh I like you already.”

And Robbe supposed impressing the clan’s ringleader was a good start, so he allowed himself to roll out his shoulders after that. But it was Sander’s quick squeeze of his shoulders that had the tension in his body lessening.

While Milan, Sander and Lola got the fire ready, Robbe sat on the couch with the others. He was beside Yasmina with Zoe and Noor on the opposite end of the couch, and they were all in comfy sweaters and leggings. Another thing Robbe was wrong about, apart from the cottage itself, was how normal it all felt. Through his anxious thoughts the past couple of weeks, he had imagined at least one of them had to be annoyed he was there. The only person he felt a little intimidated by was Lola, but he had seen enough pictures of her to know she was naturally quiet. And he was quiet too, so he found himself relating to her. And yet, each one of them radiated this welcoming energy. Robbe could only think of Sander’s past and how it must have been both disarming and alarming to be so immediately accepted by a family like this one. Going from having almost no one to a group of six was understandably a lot.

“Anyway,” Zoe was saying as she rested a hand on Yasmina’s thigh. “Campfires are a nightly thing when we’re here. Oh, and eggnog.”

“Oh speaking of-” Noor dashed to the kitchen and back, balancing a stack of red solo cups, rum and eggnog in her arms. “Amazing.”

She evenly poured the four of them a drink, handing one to Robbe first. “Thank you.”

Yasmina playfully nudged him. “You good?”

Robbe laughed a little nervously. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Aw, he’s tense,” Zoe winked, reaching over Yasmina to pat his back. 

Robbe didn’t even try to deny that. There was no point, he knew himself too well.

Zoe held up her drink in mock salute. “Drink up.”

Noor lifted her own with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Robbe hit her cup with his, and then they downed it. She cheered as the others laughed and followed through. When Sander peaked his head in to tell them the fire was ready, there was an endearing look in his eye. “Come.”

Around the fire were large and comfy-looking leather armchairs, somewhat out of place but beautiful, and when Robbe went to sit in one Sander wrapped his arms around his middle and pulled him to squeeze onto one chair together, half on each other’s laps. Sander put a blanket over them, and Robbe knew he didn’t need it, but the gesture itself was sweet. With Sander’s arms around his waist, holding him close, comfort _finally_ seeped into his bones. His home away from home. He was happy the spotlight was off of him as everyone started sitting down and passing out drinks. The fire crackled in front of them, the smell of smoke familiar and homey, Sander was heating up by his side, and the moon was bright above them.

Robbe rubbed his face into Sander’s now-warm neck. “What are you thinking about?”

Sander kissed the top of his head and whispered, “Us being here in the summer... you all to myself.”

“Sander!” Robbe hushed.

“Later, maybe.” He kissed his head one more time.

He knew the others were sneaking glances at them, but he didn’t mind. Sander had explained it before they came. Sander having a _person_ was new, to him but also to them. As far as Robbe could tell, this clan was as much a family as any other he’d grown up around. It brought him back to a much younger Robbe, guilty wishing that he knew what it felt like to have a big family. The stories and details from Sander led him to believe that they, too, would do anything to see Sander happy. Which was what he had always longed for in the first place, feeling a part of something. And he supposed this was it. He was caught in a venn diagram with them again, looking for something to hold onto, to relate to. He’d do anything for Sander the same way they would, and it was strange and new to him, but he would be damned if he tried to fight that for a second longer.

“Okay!” Milan stood up and the flames crackled in his bright honey-brown eyes. “Grab your drinks, a toast!”

Sander leaned down to pass Robbe the drink he’d set on the ground. 

“To Robbe.”

Robbe’s cheek burned from more than the fire in front of him as they all replied, “To Robbe!”. Sander was chuckling in his ear, kissing his rosy cheeks as Robbe laughed and hid his face in Sander’s chest. _So much for the attention being off of him,_ he thought. He didn’t have to worry for long, as Milan gulped down his drink and continued the show.

“So, because we have a guest,” Milan sat back down. “We thought we would share some past stories. And because I was first I thought it was only fair-”

“He’s lying, it’s not because you’re here,” Lola looked at Robbe. “It’s because he can’t stand to not be the centre of attention for two seconds.” She said it with a twinkle in her eye, and it was the only reason Robbe knew she wasn’t actually annoyed.

“Okay, maybe we do this every year, however!” Milan continued, waving off Lola’s side-comment. “I have better storytelling skills than Sander, and I need to do my own past justice.”

Sander buried his nose in Robbe’s hair and groaned for only Robbe to hear. He smiled, encouraging Milan to go on.

Milan wasn’t lying. He did have good story telling skills, ones that unraveled as the night progressed. Milan died when he was twenty-five in 1901. He had graduated from nursing school a few years previous and started working at a hospital in the Netherlands. While he enjoyed helping people in a new place with this new life of his, there was an overwhelming loneliness in him then. As soon as he turned sixteen, his parents cut ties and left him to fend for himself. They had never been good parents in the first place, but things had only gotten worse when they caught Milan kissing a neighborhood boy at age twelve. He was never to speak of it, never to let a single person in on these urges, and if he did, they would beat him. At this part, Milan laughed coldly and downed the rest of his drink.

“They beat the shit out of me anyway.” 

When he left for school, he never heard from them again, although he knew that they didn’t tell that same story to their friends. To their friends, his mom and dad were in contact with Milan monthly. To their friends, he was a successful, engaged doctor with a baby on the way.

Milan found an underground group of people like him in 1901, a group of people who shared the same urges. But he slipped up. He got too comfortable, too lazy with hiding it, too smug to let his parents follow him here too, and history repeated itself. Milan was kissing a boy outside of a bar, the alleyway dark and dim, when a group of men saw them from a distance. 

“I knew that was it,” Milan’s knuckles were stark white where he was gripping his empty cup. “I was going to die.” Robbe could tell that as much as Milan loved to be a little theatrical in his storytelling, he struggled through the next part. 

He was beaten within an inch of his life, dangling over the precipice of the great unknown, when he met Ivan. Ivan bit him within seconds of death and took him to join the rest of Ivan’s clan. The two fell irrevocably in love, fast, and without a doubt in their minds that they were each other's mate. After that it was Milan and Ivan. They planned together. They changed their course together. They left the clan behind when they started showing interest in killing innocent people, and thus, began the new clan as it was today. Except, it had started with only two and had fluctuated with him.

“Without us none of you would exist,” Milan joked, an attempt at lightening the mood as he settled back into his seat. “The order went: Noor, Lola, Yasmina, Sander and then Zoe. But those aren’t mine to go into depth about.”

Lola let out a, “you’re damn right they’re not,” and everyone burst into laughter. It shattered whatever tension they had been collectively feeling for the past however long they had been feeling it.

Robbe tenderly rubbed his nose against Sander’s neck when he heard his name. Sander squeezed him closer.

Robbe watched as Milan looked at Zoe, and she gave him a silent response with her eyes. Then, Milan’s eyes found Sander’s, as if he was asking a silent question, and then Sander nodded.

Milan got very serious after that, and Robbe knew he was about to find out why. 

“We met a man named Senne in 1975 and he was… well, he was amazing,” Milan said, and Robbe let his eyes flutter to Zoe, who’s hand was being crushed by Yasmina’s. Her jaw was set, her eyes not daring to move from Milan’s. It was this impressive attempt to stand strong in the face of a story she had re-lived a hundred times before that gave her away. Robbe knew grief. He could see it all over her.

He was a regular at a bar that Noor worked at, his physicality showing anything but who he really was within. He was a ‘bad-boy’, the one they warned you about, not the kind of guy to take home to your parents. Every dangerous cliche. But with time and one too many drinks tearing into his image, Noor learned more about who he was. 

“There was just something about him,” Milan continued. “Something that we all saw. A protectiveness for those he loves, even when misplaced. Funny, God, so, so funny. The kind of guy you want on your side, just, a stellar friend. And when he introduced us to Zoe? I don’t know. Something just… something clicked.”

Zoe was human at the time. Robbe’s heart squeezed in his chest as Milan explained how they were hopelessly in love. A Disney, fairytale type of love. Soulmates. Robbe found himself melting into Sander’s side, suddenly too afraid to let go. They clasped their rather-shaky hands together in silent understanding. Robbe wished the story ended there. He wished Senne was sitting in the circle and there was a different ending. He couldn’t- he couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want to imagine, and yet, curiosity was getting the better of him. 

Zoe and Senne became honorary members of the clan, revealing their identities before discovering that they didn’t have to. Senne already knew, had known for quite some time. 

“He had grown up learning the ways of vampires,” Milan said. “Not because he is one, but because his family… his family were vampire hunters.”

Sander tensed up beside Robbe. Robbe knew this was what he meant by “not my story to tell” and “there is danger in my world too”. 

Vampire hunters were hardly a thing anymore, but back then it was a treacherous, shaky business. It was a bloodline, a way of life for those people. Passed from generation to generation as a hobby, a sport, but also a lifeline. They were slightly stronger than the average human, a little faster, but it was their weapons that were the killer. Weapons that required fusion of human blood in order to execute vampires in the most painful of ways. Rarely was that human blood taken voluntarily either.

Robbe shivered.

But Senne did not approve of his family’s game. He rebelled and rebelled and rebelled, wanting nothing to do with such a horrible bloodline, even trying to put an end to it. He pleaded with Milan after spilling his secret, but he soon came to realize his pleas were unneeded. Their trust, the clan’s trust in Senne remained unwavering. So with an empathetic heart, Milan told him that they were his family, the ones he had chosen, and that meant more. Family was found.

The same could not be said for his brother, Viktor. Viktor, who spent his entire life trying to impress their parents. Viktor, everything that Senne couldn’t be, _refused_ to be.

While Senne actively hated his parents, he felt his brother was very much like him, born into a family that he had no choice but to follow. Viktor, the oldest, the brother with the tightest chains, the one with the pressure to carry on the family name. Senne pitied his brother for following blindly. For choosing wrong. And it was this that had Senne unable to let go.

Senne heavily involved himself in gang activity in order to keep an eye on Viktor, who, as well as vampire hunting, also took to other dangerous hobbies. But on one particular night in 1978, Senne was with Zoe. He was happy, a little drunk, a little too-relaxed, because when a riot broke out outside of the bar that him and Zoe were in, he was anything but prepared. The sound of screaming jump-started Senne into action and, as usual, he was ready to run into fire thinking with his heart and not his head. He ordered Zoe to stay inside of the bar. But Zoe was stubborn, indignant, despising playing the role of the princess to be protected. This also happened to be the decision that almost killed her.

It wasn’t a surprise that Viktor was there, the surprise was that this time, he suffered injuries too deep. In the aftermath of the fight, laying amongst blood-soaked pavement and smoke, were Viktor and Zoe. 

And Senne, panic driven and hysterical, had called Milan to help. Milan arrived with Yasmina and Ivan in tow. Noor and Lola had been off on vacation at the time and Sander was, well, a wild card.

Senne had begged Milan to save Viktor, unable to watch him die when he knew he could do something about it. And Milan would have done anything for his family, so he did. He bit Viktor, he _turned_ Viktor. And Yasmina bit Zoe.

But Viktor did not approve of his new life. He could not let go of his prejudices.

Viktor ran back to his family, telling a tale of a man who was forced into the ways of vampires. He betrayed his own brother. 

Before the clan could blink they were being bombarded in their own home. A beach house on the seaside. They had been sleeping after a night of drinking, attacked in the night by two families of vampire hunters, De Smet and Ingel.

Senne was murdered for being a traitor.

Ivan didn’t make it either.

The rest barely escaped. 

Milan’s breath hitched after this. Robbe could see himself in the way Milan kept his eyes on the fire, in the way his eyes were glazed over as memories played before him, in the way he wore his grief like every-bad-dream. Always looking around the corner.

They got their revenge in the early nineties, accidentally of course. For they were young, and had no intention of ever seeking out murder. But they had a run in with the only remaining member of the Ingel hunter clan left, and Sander was the one to kill her, only because she had a knife to Yasmina’s throat. In that grimy abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Ghent, they’d had no choice but to act fast.

It was the first time Sander had killed and, well, “That’s not my story to tell,” Milan repeated yet again, trying to inject a certain amount of levity into those words. “We’d actually been there to scope out the place and see if it was somewhere livable. We were new to the area as a group and needed somewhere secluded, and it was by accident we stumbled upon her. At least we put an end to a bloodline of murderers though.” The use of the collective pronoun shouldered some of that weight of murder, but Sander was still tense beside him. 

Sander was staring very intently at the fire in front of him as Milan trailed off. The rest of the campfire and the vampires around it became a dull background noise as Robbe studied Sander’s face. It was interesting to imagine this Sander, bundled in blanket at Robbe’s side, with his vintage-mug collection, his plants, his rather-shy exhibition in the midst of a crowd, doing _that._ Holding a knife to someone’s throat. And killing. And while Robbe knew this already, Milan’s in-depth story telling ability mixed with the crackle of the fire made it all the more real. It changed nothing about Robbe’s view of Sander, but it did give Robbe a greater understanding of what Sander had gone through as a vampire. The realization of all he’s lost. It was this that sat in the forefront of Robbe’s mind as he became aware of everyone slowly trickling back inside.

They all retired to bed after that. Remnants of the story remained in Robbe’s head as he climbed the stairs to their bedroom, hand in hand with Sander, a life he hadn’t lived playing out in front of his eyes. He brushed his teeth with his eyes glazed as visions of the clan being attacked in the dead of the night played in front of him. When he stripped down to crawl into bed he found Sander with a similar expression on his face, laying on his back under the covers and staring at the ceiling.

Robbe laid beside him, leaning his head on his arm. He studied Sander’s dark eyes, his pale skin and the way he was frozen. In fact, he looked the most like a vampire that Robbe had ever seen him, and still, there was no fear.

“Hey,” Robbe broke the silence. “You okay?”

“Mm?” Sander blinked, finally turning his head to look at Robbe. “Yeah, it’s just- a lot. To hear all of that again.”

Robbe nodded, opening his arms for Sander to crawl into. He loved the way they switched like this, it was an unspoken agreement that when the other was feeling a little down, open arms were a subtle gesture that said _come here, let me hold you, let me heal you._

Sander laid his head down on Robbe’s chest and allowed his fingers to trail softly over the skin by his head. He hummed. Robbe wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk more about it, so he kept quiet. Until-

“I went back to the warehouse, you know. Once or twice. Just to see… if it would make me feel better? Forget? I don’t know what I was searching for, just, something to help me move on from the fact that I had kill-” He cut himself off with a frustrated sigh.

Robbe felt it was better to just let him speak, he liked the moments that Sander didn’t hold back, so often sugar-coating his feelings in an attempt to lighten the situation. But he couldn’t do it here, there was no room for it.

“What Milan didn’t mention was that he didn’t… he didn’t move for almost two years. He was frozen inside of a dark, empty bedroom, drowning in grief.”

Robbe kissed the top of his head. He knew that feeling all too well. And he knew Sander had dealt with his own share of grief, but hearing him talk about it was making Robbe feel even closer to him. At the same time, Robbe couldn’t help but wonder the excruciating pain of a vampire losing their mate. While Robbe had been a victim of loss, and he didn’t dare compare a person’s grief, he still wondered. It was the beginning of a sinking fear sitting hidden in the darkest parts of Robbe’s thoughts, something he wasn’t able to begin to voice.

“Zoe, too. She had only been a vampire for a week before she lost Senne. Her entire life just… changed.”

Robbe rubbed Sander’s arm in comfort, the only thing he could do as his throat closed.

“The rest of us felt it too, but they just froze. Watching them lose the one they loved… I- I physically… ached to… love someone like that. And then I saw them lose....and I just- I couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like. And now I can.”

Robbe’s heart skipped a beat before he allowed the thought to live in the forefront of his mind for a moment. He could also imagine what that felt like.

Sander whispered, “I’m not as strong as them. I wouldn’t survive it.”

“Hey,” Robbe soothed, speaking into his hair. “What I’ve learned from grief, from loss, is that you can’t expect it.”

“But that’s terrifying.”

“I know,” Robbe whispered. “I know. But you can’t spend every day fearing it. Something that might never happen.”

Robbe hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say, a suggestion, a background thought. An option that would make Robbe’s probability of survival almost 100%, but he swallowed it down. It didn’t feel like the time.

“Robbe?”

“Mm?”

“You know you’re my person, right?”

“I do.”

“Okay. Are you okay with that?”

Robbe sat up, confused. He crossed his legs and looked down at Sander’s tired face, his expression burdened with old feelings of grief and loss and vulnerability and insecurity.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?” Robbe asked, a reassuring smile on his face, taking Sander’s hand and holding it in both of his.

“Because you’re my mate.”

The words sounded like coming home. Again and again, wherever Sander may be. It was strange, Robbe was attempting to remember when he had been told what that meant, yet he came up short. It was then that he realized, maybe, he had never been told, but that it was something a little bit more than that. A term engraved so deep into his existence that he just… knew. And it was with this thought that he wondered, what did this mean for a human? And a vampire? He had no time to ponder further, because Sander was looking at him like he was expecting a different reaction, and it started to eat at Robbe’s insecurities.

“Am I supposed to be upset?”

“No it’s just- you know you have a choice, right?” Sander said slowly.

Oh. Robbe immediately understood. This wasn’t about Robbe’s insecurity, it was about Sander’s.

“I do. And I choose you.”

Sander sat up, crossing his legs as well and facing Robbe. His other hand joined Robbe’s and he pulled both of his hands into his lap.

“I was scared of mentioning it at first but- I’ve known for awhile. I think a part of me has known since the moment I saw you sitting alone by the cliffs. But I didn’t want to tell you because- because you still deserved a choice, you know? You’re human, you didn’t ask for this. But I felt this immediate pull- like everything suddenly pointed to you. You probably felt it, slightly less-so because you’re human and didn’t know what it was, but…”

Robbe had felt it. He had felt it, but he couldn’t explain it, this weird sensation that the earth’s gravity was suddenly a blonde boy in the corner of the room, at the cliffs, pinning him down against the bed, watching him play piano, telling him he was a vampire, and sucking his blood. It was there. It was all there.

“I felt it, Sander. And I’ve felt it everyday since.”

Sander looked down at their hands, a relieved expression coming over him.

Robbe thought about how Sander had been willing to sacrifice all of this, his mate, because he thought he would make Robbe’s life worse. Because he was bipolar. Robbe stared at his face and realized that he was looking at his very own angel. An angel was someone who was selfless, and protective, and would seemingly give up everything for those they loved. Sander was all of that and more. Sander was his angel. A vampire… a vampire was his angel. There was a strangeness to it, given everything that a vampire was supposed to be. A killer, a blood-sucking monster, a soulless creature. It was almost laughable to even attempt to attach those terms to the person laying in bed with him. 

Overwhelmed, Robbe was springing forward and connecting their lips as they fell back against the bed together. Sander’s face scrunched together, emotional, so Robbe kissed him passionately, fiercely, as if this was the only moment they had. He may be Sander’s person, but Sander was as much his, and he wouldn’t let him forget it.

\---

The next morning, to Robbe’s horror, after another full breakfast made by Milan (“you’re so skinny!”), they were all dragging him ice skating. Abruptly, and with no room for argument because a pair of skates conveniently his size were being slammed on the island beside his plate of food. 

It wasn’t that he was a particularly bad skater. It was just that, well, they were all vampires and it was quite literally not fair how good their reflexes were. He didn’t anticipate any of them falling, but they tried. Oh, how they tried.

Robbe watched with wide eyes as Sander looped his bare hand into Robbe’s gloved one and pulled him onto the ice and Milan tripped Noor, sending her flying to the ground. However, seconds before her bottom hit the ice, Lola was there to catch her. Milan skated away for his life as Lola glared and raced after him.

“My hero,” Noor mocked as she was left to stand there by herself, vulnerable to the shoves of others. “Robbe, come!”

Sander gripped Robbe’s shoulders and pushed him towards her. It was with enough force that he had to do little to no work to glide into the arms of Noor, but his skates were only stable for a moment before she hooked their hands together and began spinning. Robbe wondered how Noor’s beret was staying on her head as her laughing face became the only bit of clarity in front of him, the rest of the world a tilted blur. She also seemed to be enjoying this near-death experience a little too much, and Robbe couldn’t help yelling: “Noor I swear to God-”

“Noor, he’s gonna fa-” Sander’s voice shouted from the left of him, or the right, he didn’t know.

Yasmina came out of nowhere, tumbling into his back and sending all three of them crashing to the ground in fits of laughter. Robbe shook off the last of his dizziness to be met with Sander’s shaking head above him.

Zoe glided over to reach a hand out and help Yasmina up, fully knowing that she could do it herself. Yasmina looked up at her with endearing eyes and Robbe only had a moment to smile at them before Sander was offering his hand. Robbe grabbed on as Sander helped him up. 

“Hold on tight!” Sander belted as Robbe grabbed onto Sander’s arm and let himself be pulled. The world around them began to blur as Sander picked up speed, his arm looped in Robbe’s. He was keeping Robbe upright and stable, but at the same time, the ice cold rush of adrenaline was pulsing in his veins, familiar and all new. Robbe felt like he was on a rollercoaster with no safety harness, nothing but Sander’s grip to keep him held to the earth. His scream was playful when Sander abruptly cut a corner of the makeshift rink, their bodies caught in the centripetal force of the motion. Sander wrapped his arms around him as they spun and spun to a dizzying halt.

“You’re ridiculous,” Robbe laughed as Sander kissed the tip of his flushed nose, grateful that he wasn’t one to get too nauseous. Milan was calling for Sander to race him, so Robbe lightly spun him around and pushed him in the direction, Sander looking over his shoulder to wink.

Yasmina was skating over to him now, looking like an angel on blades. Her face alight in the early morning air bore no signs of anything but peace, even with all the chaos of her family around them. She looped her arm through Robbe’s and tugged him forward. “Help. If I’m attached to you, they won’t push me over.”

“I’ll protect you,” Robbe teased as they skated arm and arm. He’d never considered himself fragile, but it was an interesting card to play with a bunch of vampires.

She playfully nudged his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

Robbe was suddenly at a loss for word, eyes on his skates. He didn’t know how to tell her that they had only arrived yesterday and this was already the best Christmas he had ever had. He didn’t know how to say that he felt like he belonged with people he hardly knew in a place he’d hardly stayed. It was impossible to articulate.

So he kept it simple. “It’s better than being on campus, that’s for sure.”

She snorted as Lola and Noor dashed past them, blades kicking up ice as they screeched mid-race about who was actually winning. “I’m happy you’re here. I was getting tired of being the smartest in the room.”

Robbe raised an eyebrow at her. “You saying I’m smarter than you?”

Yasmina’s eyes widened, and it was a second too late before she realized her mistake. “No, I meant, anyone who compares-”

“Nope,” Robbe teased. “No, I heard it. You admitted I’m smarter.”

“You’re literally not,” Yasmina turned her nose up to the sky. “I’m, like, a hundred years older than you.”

“Speaking of,” Robbe remarked. “When am I getting your tragic backstory?”

“Tonight, if you’re lucky.”

“Yasmina-” Robbe groaned, curiosity eating at him once again. One minute it was just the two of them, and then the next, Zoe was grabbing Robbe’s other arm. She looked like an olympic figure skater with her bright red lipstick, charming smile, blue beret, and light blue winter coat that was definitely a fashion statement rather than actual weather purposes. Robbe was the only one in a full-blown coat at that.

“I’m hiding over here,” Zoe said. “I figured they wouldn’t push Robbe to the ground.”

“Hey that’s what I said.” Yasmina looked over top of Robbe’s head at Zoe. 

“Is that all I am to you guys? A shield?” Robbe asked.

“To be fair we’re just biology partners, who said anything about-”

“Hey!” Robbe dramatically gasped.

“She’s kidding,” Zoe winked at Yasmina. “Wouldn’t want you getting cocky-”

Both of them let go of him at the same time as Yasmina chased after Zoe, Zoe screaming bloody murder. Robbe only had a brief moment to marvel at the clan’s chaos before Sander was skating back and wrapping his arms around his waist. Damn, these vampires were relentless. Sander lifted Robbe into the air and spun them in a circle before placing him back on his feet. Robbe wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck to balance before kissing him. He didn’t intend for it to be more than a peck, but he felt a sudden joy, one that refused to be dismissed, so he opened his mouth wider into the kiss. One turned to three, and they didn’t stop for several minutes as everyone continued skating around them, an unspoken recognition that this was _their_ moment. Robbe was beginning to understand the solidarity that they all had with each other. When one suffers, they all suffer. When one finds happiness, they all feel some semblance of it. He hoped they could feel even a fraction of the happiness that he was feeling, because he briefly wondered if it was enough to end wars, to make the sun rise, to blossom flowers, to turn the tides.

When they were walking back to the cottage, the sun beginning to set, Robbe heard Sander mutter an “oh no” under his breath. Before he had a chance to ask what happened, Milan was screaming from behind them and a snowball was zooming past his head a frightening speed.

Competition felt inevitable as a playful but determined look fell over Sander’s face. And then there were snowballs. Lots of them. Robbe was absolutely fearing for his life as snowballs were being thrown so fast he could barely see them in the air, and they made a high pitched whining sound every time they left the hands of a vampire. He only had a brief moment to stare, in awe, at the speed of the snow before arms were winding their way around his waist and pulling him to the ground. Sander landed on top of him with a solid thud, smiling and pushing some of the hair out of Robbe’s face before leaning down to place a tender kiss on his lips. Robbe laughed as he hung on around the neck and pulled him closer, turning so that Sander fell off of him.

“I just saved your life.” Sander spoke into his neck.

“Thank you. I’ll try to return the favour.”

Robbe could tell they were going easy on him, just as they had back at the skating rink. He hit a few of them, but they barely flinched and he found himself standing there and sulking because of it. Until he saw Lola with a devilish smirk on her face as she picked up a snowball and looked right at Sander, and then Robbe was mad dashing in front of him. The snowball whacked Robbe in the ankle, and Lola jumped when she realized she hit him, hands coming up her mouth. The pain was brief and totally worth it for the surprised look on Sander’s face as Robbe dramatically shook the snow off of his leg and clapped his hands together.

“I didn’t think you meant literally,” Sander said, eyes going squinty with a smile when he saw how red Robbe’s cheeks, ears, and nose were getting.

“I think you’re going to have to carry me back, I’m dying. I can’t go on...” Robbe looped his arms around Sander’s neck. Sander lifted him into his arms bridal style with a faux indignance, knowing Robbe was just looking for an excuse but giving up the act two seconds in.

“Sorry Robbe!” Lola was yelling just as both Noor and Zoe pelted her in the face. “Noor, I’m going to kill-”

Sander carried Robbe back to the cottage to get warm while the others continued to fool around in the afternoon sun. Robbe was grateful for this because he was beginning to lose feeling in his toes. Sander, the apparent telepath, warmed his skin as Robbe trailed his red nose over his neck. Sander carried Robbe through the front door of the cottage and chuckled in Robbe’s ear. “Welcome home, Mr. Driesen.”

Robbe’s heart threatened to fly out of his throat. “Oh, we’re married?”

“Looks like it doesn’t it?” Sander teased as he carefully placed Robbe down on the dining room table. 

Robbe rolled his eyes despite the way his insides warmed because of it. He took off his beanie and gloves in one swift motion and worked on regaining feeling to his fingers. Sander watched him endearingly before settling in front of Robbe, palming Robbe’s red cheeks with his warm hands, and Robbe couldn’t take his eyes off of his face. Sander saw him watching and his lips twitched into a smile. “Feel better?”

“My lips are a little cold too,” Robbe tilted his head, waiting for him to get the hint.

“Mmm,” Sander rested a finger under Robbe’s chin and leaned down. He was a brush away before he pulled back, and Robbe had to swallow a whine. Sander threaded his other hand in the curls resting by Robbe’s nape and tugged. That alone was enough for Robbe to be able to feel his skin again, although maybe a little too warm below his abdomen. “Just your lips?”

“See for yourself,” Robbe said, eyes fluttering shut as Sander finally kissed him, and Robbe came halfway undone from that alone. He gripped Sander’s bicep on impulse and arched into the kiss, sucking on Sander’s lower lip. He had to hold back from biting down when Sander pulled his hair again. 

His mind might have been halfway gone with the rest of him, but he remembered where they were and who they were with in an instant. He pulled away, letting Sander kiss down his throat at an agonizing pace. When Robbe spoke up, it was followed by a gasp. “What if they come back?”

“Better be quiet, then,” Sander smirked when he pulled Robbe back into an actual full kiss. The unknown was exhilarating, as they were so used to having an empty apartment all to themselves. Robbe realized how much he liked it. Of course he did, with his penchant for chasing adrenaline, it was no wonder that this would do it for him too.

They stumbled up the stairs, lips not stopping for a second, and somehow made it to the bedroom in one piece. Sander kicked the door shut and Robbe couldn’t wait another moment before cupping Sander’s face and pushing him up against the back of the door. Sander groaned, deep and low in his throat as their tongues connected once more, magnetic, rough, and greedy all at once. Robbe imagined Sander didn’t need to visualise anything at this moment to get his skin so burning-hot as Robbe’s hands felt up Sander’s upper arms, his spine, his neck and hair. Robbe would never get used to how Sander’s felt under his hands, so ethereal and electric and _his._ God, this was all his.

It was easy to tell when Sander had enough of the teasing because he wrapped his arms around Robbe’s shoulders, encasing him tightly before spinning them around, so Robbe was pinned to the wall. Robbe loved when they switched because it always meant Sander was ready to take him apart inch by inch. Robbe lifted his arms on instinct and Sander got his shirt above his head, throwing it to the side. Robbe tugged at Sander’s next, annoyed that it was so stubborn under his hands, and Sander grinned with giddy amusement at how quickly he could yank it over his own head. Sander’s smile was contagious. Robbe couldn’t stop a quiet giggle from escaping as they stripped themselves bare, and Sander kissed him with perked up lips as they laughed into it. And Robbe never thought that laughing during a moment like this could feel so _good,_ but with Sander, it did. It always did. 

The laughing came to a halt rather quickly, though, because Sander was back to grinding against him and Robbe let all kinds of noises spill out of his mouth. Sander pinned Robbe’s wrists to the wall and kissed him agonizingly-slow. Robbe could hardly make his mouth return it because he was so keyed up, so in desperate need of this _over and over and over again_. He didn’t think it was possible for sex with one person to never burn out, to just keep surprising him him every time. 

But Sander kept surprising him. He was the flame that never went out, the wave that kept rising, the constant shimmer of the North star. Sander entering him was a relief every damn time, and not just because of his endless teasing before, but because the feeling was akin to coming home. Only, with more of a pent up desperation and a hammering of his heart so loud against his chest he was certain the rest of the clan could hear. Robbe was grateful for Sander holding him against the wall, chest pressed against the door, because his knees were so weak he might have just collapsed otherwise. 

And they made great timing at that, because Sander growled low in Robbe’s ear, “They’re coming,” just as Robbe was close. Sander hooked his fingers into Robbe’s mouth to keep him quiet, and the notion alone had Robbe coming undone at the seams. Sander quickly followed just as Robbe heard the front door open, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care because Sander was scooping him into his arms once more and laying him on the bed and falling beside him. He didn’t care because they were both laying there, breathing heavy, naked and exposed and vulnerable and _them_. He didn’t care because they were laughing again, starting with a breathy snort-turned-chuckle from Sander and then a burst of buried giggles from Robbe as he rolled over to press his face against Sander’s arm. And Sander kissed him again, gentle and delicate, soft green eyes looking at Robbe like he had hung the moon. 

“We should probably clean up and go help with the campfire,” Sander said, thumbing Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe felt the words on his tongue. Branding him. But like so many times before, they got tangled in his throat. 

So he simply nodded.

\---

As it turns out, Yasmina was right about it being her turn. Robbe curled his legs up, knees resting over Sander’s thighs as everyone else settled around the fire. Sander’s hand was repeatedly combing through Robbe’s hair, a parallel to how Yasmina and Zoe were situated to the right of them. 

“You tired?” Sander whispered, lips brushing the curve of Robbe’s jaw.

Robbe shook his head. Physically, maybe. He could feel it in the way he molded into the space under Sander’s arm, muscles relaxing and perhaps even a bit sore, but emotionally he felt like he could run a marathon. That’s what counted tonight. “I want to hear Yasmina.”

Sander closed his eyes as he nuzzled his nose into Robbe’s cheek. “I know it can be a lot to keep up with vampires, so you just let me know.”

Robbe would have retorted with something sarcastic, but Yasmina uncrossed her legs to perch herself on the edge of her seat. Zoe moved with her to rub at her back in silent support, two magnets, telepaths, a seemingly deeper understanding for each other than Robbe initially knew. Lola hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten, so Noor held a finger to Lola’s lips to cut her off. It was impossible not to smile as Lola kissed Noor’s finger, followed by a bellowing laugh from Noor and Milan shushing them. Sander snorted into Robbe’s ear, and finally, Yasmina began to speak.

“I was twenty-two.”

In 1947, Yasmina had been walking home from the library, alone, when she was attacked by a vampire.

That sentence alone had Robbe’s mind flashing back to the night he himself had been walking home from the college library, and Sander had appeared out of nowhere to make sure he was safe. Robbe shifted in his seat, and Sander pulled him closer.

The vampire that attacked Yasmina had been new to this life, a lone stray. It was a woman with no clan. No one had taught her the ways of the vampire world, how to not murder innocent people, how to control her thirst and understand what was happening to her body. Yasmina was an easy target. But because the woman was so ignorant, she had gone a little too far and sank her venom into Yasmina’s veins instead. Yasmina, bloody and on her hands and knees, had used any remaining fight in her to crawl and collapse in an empty alleyway. Death creeped around the corner, sinking it’s own teeth into her soul, but then, Ivan was there, a mystery all on his own. But when Ivan brought her back to their home to finish her transition, she got her answers just as the others had.

But Yasmina found herself facing a different kind of challenge.

Yasmina, turned against her will, forced into a life that the Quran didn’t prepare her for… or so she thought. An experience so unique that the others had no intel on, no rulebook, no way of relating to what she could possibly be going through. Next to Sander, Yasmina had it the hardest transitioning into the ways of vampires. For one, _blood is unclean_. It should be washed away with water until it leaves no stain or no odor -- how are you supposed to survive on something _impure?_ But Islam is very forgiving. Merciful. Forgiving to the facts: Yasmina had no way of surviving without blood. Exceptions never stopped the guilt that choked her every time she tried to swallow and it took countless nights of succumbing to the burning in her throat before she found the will to drink. Yasmina learned how to reconcile with her new body and her faith, refusing to let one die for the other. When she had to eat, when she had to sustain herself, she did her best to stick to what she’d been taught: leave room for air, leave room for food, and leave room for water. 

She maintained the practice of fasting, too. Yasmina fasted more than just during Ramadan, but she followed the _sunnah_. She fasted on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, during the “six days of Shawwal,” every thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth of the month -- Yasmina found every opportunity to fast voluntarily. She hoped, and prayed, that her fasts would be accepted by Allah and she would be forgiven for what she could not control. 

The experience left Yasmina’s brain spinning as she realized the extent of the knowledge that was not known to vampires. Vampirism confronted what she had believed in for so long but in other ways, affirmed her beliefs, too. When the angels did not approach her at the time of her death, Yasmina realized that this was simply a second phase of life, not _death_ the way she had been taught. She had been studying biology at the time of her death as a human and she chose to continue her studies. It allowed her to feel even closer to her faith, as Islam was pro-science and pro-education. It was what kept her sane as she spent countless nights with her face stuck in a book, only coming out for blood. It actually took the other members of the clan a while to get to know her because she was so enamoured by her studies. When the clan shifted their course with Sander’s arrival, she decided to be the first of them to go back to college with a new identity to further her resources. To seek knowledge, to invest in her learnings.

And when Zoe lost Senne, Yasmina was who she leaned on the most.

“Nobody really tells you,” Yasmina said, serious as she gazed into the remnants of the fire, taking on a similar look that Milan had the night before. “One of the most difficult parts of this new life is… accepting that old habits are going to fade. We’re most vulnerable during the beginning of this existence. There’s a certain… lust for blood that only lessens once that adjustment period is over.”

Yasmina played with one of the rings on her pointer finger and squeezed Zoe’s thigh beside her. “It’s because of this that sleeping is so, so essential. Some of us still like to sleep,” She muttered, a pointed glance in Sander’s direction, “But nights aren’t dreamless, even when you’re a vampire.”

A gentle understanding came over Robbe as Yasmina detailed her own experience with nightmares. Horrific, spine-chilling nightmares, yet there was this inquisitive quality to her stories. Robbe recognized her expression, one she wore so often when she studied with him in class, knowing immediately that she had studied this in depth. It didn’t get any easier to listen as she went on to explain Zoe’s experience with dreams. Because for Zoe, this was not a good thing. Her nightmares were the most extreme out of anyone in the clan as she was a fresh vampire on top of losing the love of her life. 

It was all just a bit too much. But luckily, Yasmina was there for her every step of the way, soothing her hair out of her face and listening to her sobs. Robbe’s heart clenched at that, reminded of his mother.

Yasmina gave him a weak smile when she was finished, and she slid back in her chair and into Zoe’s arms. It was a sweet embrace, and Robbe had to glance away for a moment.

Just like the night before, Robbe felt the effects of the tale long after Yasmina stopped telling it. Casual conversation bubbled back up between them all, remnants of the past settling like the ashes in the fire pit. When Sander began talking mindlessly to Milan, Robbe shifted so that he could see Yasmina better. She was rather quiet as her eyes found solace in the starry night above her, and Robbe rested his chin in his hand.

“This changes things, then,” Robbe said offhandedly. “If we’re keeping score.”

Yasmina’s eyes flickered to Robbe, one eyebrow raising in question. “Come again?”

Robbe shrugged. “It’s not exactly a fair game, seeing as you’ve been taking biology classes far longer than me.”

“Unfair?” Yasmina scoffed. “That’s your excuse? Weak.”

Robbe’s shoulders relaxed. It was clear at this point that every retelling of their history would take its toll, and Robbe felt this urge to comfort her in any way he knew. “Unfair advantage.”

“And if you were already beating me?” Yasmina fired back. “Would that change things?”

Robbe perked up. “Am I?”

Yasmina looked at the dying fire with a smirk, a roll of her eyes, arms crossed. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“How do you know?” Robbe urged on, sitting up.

“Vampire senses.”

“Oh, not this again.”

And with that, the rest of the night felt lighter.

\---

The following morning Sander was a firecracker of energy, unable to resist kissing Robbe awake. He was spooning Robbe from behind when the kissing started. His hair. His neck. His shoulders. Down his back. When Sander caught wind of the goosebumps rising on Robbe’s skin, he abruptly flipped him over, and Robbe wasted no time himself, wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck and connecting their lips. Sander slowed his kisses when he realized that Robbe was still half asleep, and Robbe lazily hummed into it. Sander cupped Robbe’s cheek in his hand and trailed his thumb over the skin. The days like this, ones filled with a gentleness Robbe could hardly comprehend, were intoxicating. Sander was so good at reading what Robbe needed and when he needed it. And today, he needed this.

“Come for a walk with me.”

Robbe caught sight of the clock ticking on the far wall and rubbed his eyes. “It’s 6am?” He muttered sleepily, but it sounded like more of a question.

Sander waggled his eyebrows. “You have to see the sunrise over the lake. Come, human.” 

Another one of Sander’s _things_. Robbe lazily rolled out of bed and pulled on his jeans, eyes heavy with sleep. He would have toppled to the ground if it weren’t for Sander. 

It was chilly, so of course, Robbe pinpointed the exact moment Sander began concentrating to make his skin toasty warm, so Robbe felt no effects of the snowy morning. Robbe bundled himself in big snow boots, his red beanie, and a big black scarf. Before leaving Sander had stopped him from putting on his usual brown jacket (it was wearing thin considering Robbe had worn it since high school, too broke to afford a new one) and turned him around to fit his leather jacket over top of the hoodie. Robbe rolled his eyes playfully, but elation lit him up from the inside out. The jacket smelled like Sander.

Sander only needed a black Bowie t-shirt with a grey long sleeve underneath, and Robbe imagined the two looked funny walking together, Robbe bundled and Sander definitely less-so.

Robbe looped his arm in Sander’s as they walked, occasionally leaning his head against his shoulder. The sun was high in the sky above the mountains, the ground decorated in a new layer of snow, the lake still beside them, and everything smelled new. 

There was an abandoned dock spreading far out into the water, and Sander led them onto it. They stopped at the edge, the lake surrounding them. Robbe closed his eyes and pushed his face into Sander’s shoulder, humming contently. As much as he was enjoying the long days with the clan, this was serenity. His eyes were a little heavy, and he kept yawning, but just as Sander liked to sleep when Robbe slept (when he could), Robbe liked to be awake when Sander was awake. Every moment still felt so incredibly important.

“I’ve been waiting for you to check your pockets for twenty minutes now, Robbe.”

Robbe lifted his head to smile curiously at him, chuckling. “What?”

Sander put his hands on Robbe’s shoulders and turned him, knocking their foreheads together lightly and smiling. “Check your pockets.”

Robbe put both hands in the pockets of the leather jacket, feeling around until his fingers brushed cold metal. He furrowed his brows as he brought it out of his pocket, resting the circular pendant against the palm of his hand. 

“Merry Christmas, angel.” Sander said, voice just above a whisper. Robbe’s mouth opened slightly in shock. It was a gold necklace, a pendant, with a little angel in the middle resting her chin on her hand. It was petite, but it had Robbe’s entire heart aching with all sorts of emotions. He felt yearning hit him smack dab in the middle of the ribcage, yearning for the times that Sander clearly remembered. Times of his mother summoning angels, yet he found it hard to yearn for a time where he hadn’t known Sander. The second thing he felt, and this came in a wave, was gratitude. For Sander standing in front of him, Sander who listened to his stories, and remembered, and knew what this meant for him. He couldn’t help his eyes from filling with tears, and then he stepped forward into Sander’s chest, the pendant clutched between his hands, his face pressed into his neck.

Sander wrapped his arms around him and held him close, and they stayed like this for quite some time. Sander occasionally pressed kisses to the top of Robbe’s head and temples, and Robbe simply buried his face closer into his heated neck in response. 

When Robbe finally looked up at him, his eyes red, he said the most truthful words he had ever spoken. There were no more knots in his throat. 

“I love you so much.”

Sander’s eyes widened and so did his joyous grin. “I love you too.”

It didn’t feel like the first time they were saying it. Because in truth, it wasn’t. Robbe said it when he flew over to Sander’s apartment that one, cool afternoon to tell Sander that being bipolar changes nothing. Sander said it every time he read Robbe’s face and knew he needed to sit in silence. The words were engraved in every kiss, every brief, knowing glance from across the room. In every bite, in every arch of their spines. It was hidden in every crevice of the apartment, and brown and green paint. Robbe briefly wondered if there was ever a universe where they weren’t saying those words, but he quickly realized he didn’t have to wonder at all. It brought him comfort to imagine that in every corner of every galaxy, there was a Robbe with Sander. There was no time for wondering about all that was unknown to him. At this moment, there was only this.

Robbe and Sander spent the remainder of the day positively beaming, the gold against Robbe’s neck felt like more than a gift. It felt like a symbol. A dream catcher. A way to commemorate all that he had learned here. It listened and collected every story, every past-life, and kept it safe within the gold indentations. It continued to do so that night, after a rather relaxing day of watching movies and snuggling up on the couch. Robbe was about to tell Sander that he was up for more, that they shouldn’t slow down for him, but he was working on this thing called _putting himself first_. And he supposed a day on the couch sounded lovely.

And that’s exactly what followed for a good remainder of the day. Somewhere a quarter into their second movie, Sander fell asleep with his face smooshed into Robbe’s thigh. Robbe got a little lost in the sight of him, still so in-awe every time Sander succumbed to the thing the rest of the clan hardly seemed to do. Robbe traced the curve of his nose, across his cheek and then rested his fingers in the soft strands of his hair, soothing Sander into an even deeper sleep. The others couldn’t even poke fun, Zoe whispering that it was a relief every time Sander looked as peaceful as he did. Robbe’s heart clenched in his chest.

Zoe and Milan abandoned the current movie, ( _Nightmare Before Christmas_ , because, well, the irony) in favour of cooking what Robbe thought was a meal simply for him. But when they started setting the table he noticed there was a spot for each of them, and Robbe had to swallow whatever insecurity was threatening to bubble up at the thought of them eating simply for him. And he was happy he did, because after nudging Sander awake and joining the rest of them at the table, it was hard to feel any kind of doubt at the way they were all beaming at the homemade meal in front of them. It wasn’t a lot, the biggest portion being on Robbe’s plate, but they all picked at the food anyway. Eggnog was passed around, a horrible rendition of Jingle Bells played on the radio in the corner, and it all felt so _normal_ Robbe’s heart could burst. He had never had a holiday dinner with a family this big. The joy was thick in every laugh, every story, in every squeeze Sander gave his knee under the table. 

As the routine called for, they made their way outside for the campfire after Robbe had stuffed his face full with turkey and mashed potatoes. However, when Yasmina handed him a bag of marshmallows, he supposed he still had room for that. 

Noor stood up out of nowhere and held her marshmallow on a stick into the middle of their circle as a toast. Robbe nudged Sander to do the same with the ones he’d just been roasting for them.

“Before we begin our thrilling tale, here’s to family,” She declared with a smile. “Milan doesn’t get to be the only one to officially welcome you, Robbe, so I just wanted to say that you’re ours now. Our family, I mean, part of… _the clan_.” She winked at the term they had adopted.

“Cheers,” Yasmina said, raising her own glass of water. Relief was evident on her face as the spotlight was elsewhere tonight, eyes present and not some place far away. They all said their cheers and picked at the roasting sticks, letting Noor and Lola ready themselves for their story ahead.

And Robbe learned why their stories were so closely intertwined very quickly.

Noor and Lola had been childhood best friends.

Born in 1900, around the time that Milan had died, were two neighbours. The two lived next door to each other and it didn’t take long for them to become inseparable. They went to the same school, spent every waking moment together in the summer running through flower fields, abandoned houses, stealing wine from their parents liquor cabinet, and it wasn’t until they were both sixteen that they realized the connection ran a little deeper than they had thought.

After their first kiss behind the dumpsters at school, they began sneaking around, which was supposedly the fun part. 

“It was all very romantic,” Lola said, punctuated with an eye roll.

Noor smirked in retaliation and began recounting the danger of it all, sneaking through windows, cheek pecks in public, hand holding under tables. What could have been a story of tragedy and despair of keeping their love a secret was actually not that at all. The two were both very different from other girls their age and thrived in the chaos. They thrived off each other.

The real tragedy came in 1918 when Noor became sick with the widespread Spanish Influenza. She was admitted to a hospital in Brussels. 

Milan and Ivan had made their way over there quite a few years previous and were planning to leave within the year. Milan had been working one night, doing his best to make Noor comfortable as she was on her last leg. It was late into the AM when he spotted them from the entranceway, stopping dead in his tracks. Lola, forced to stay away due to how contagious the pandemic was, had snuck in anyway. Milan watched in secret as Lola cried into Noor’s chest, begging her to not leave. Milan saw the relationship for what it was.

Lola, who had been doing a great job of being stoic up until this moment, set her jaw as she stared at Noor’s hand in hers. “It was… yeah, it was awful. Leaving her that night, in full belief that I wouldn’t see her again, it’s a hard feeling to describe, mourning someone before they’re even gone.”

When Lola left in the morning, Milan knew what he had to do. 

“He carried me to a private room in the hospital,” Noor spoke up, and Robbe was reminded of Sander’s story, how he had been turned in a similar room. “I honestly thought they needed room in the hospital and he was taking me somewhere to finish me off. But then he flashed his beautiful, white, sexy fangs and I-”

“Noor…” Milan was suppressing a laugh in favour of not interrupting.

Noor winked, but continued anyway. “He sort of asked me first, although I was so delicious I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a fever dream. He said the word vampire, and immortality and I must have nodded, because he bit me a moment later.”

Milan carried her to his small home where he was living with Ivan. When Noor had finished transforming she had one thought in mind: Find Lola.

“Tell them what you told me,” Noor looked at Lola with a devilish smirk. “Your reaction when I found you sitting alone on that park bench.”

“No,” Lola said. “No way.”

“Please,” Noor pouted, resting her head on Lola’s shoulder. “Please, Lola-”

“Fine,” It didn’t take much for Lola to give in, not with that pout. “I thought she was a ghost, scared the shit out of me.”

Robbe giggled at the image that popped into his head. Noor, looking as healthy as she did today, no longer sick, standing in front of Lola, who had believed her to be dead, and Lola’s eyes bulging out of her sockets. But the giggle quickly vanished as he imagined what that must have felt like, for Lola to believe she would never see Noor again and then… seeing her like _that._

“Anyway,” Lola continued. “After I was convinced she wasn’t a ghost, and we stopped crying… _I know, I know_. She took me back to Milan and Ivan’s place. Milan bit me next, but Noor was going to if he refused-”

“I was not going to refuse.” Milan interrupted again.

“You were thinking about it,” Noor fired back.

“I was not!” Milan exclaimed. “Why would I? I saw you two in the hospital room, illegally, by the way, of course I was going to-”

“Anyway!” Noor repeated. “Milan bit Lola next, without hesitation, apparently, for good reason, too. Considering she could have gotten the flu from me.”

And the clan went from two to four.

Noor and Lola spent some time being flappers in the twenties, promising to show Robbe their old outfits some day. They described the twenties as a chaotic mess but defining for women empowerment. 

Lola faced some trouble when the fad of the 60s turned to drug use. Everything was available and most of it was dangerously addicting. Noor was right there with her but she was able to stop. Noor enjoyed the drugs socially while Lola used them as an escape. Noor begged Milan to intervene and help put a stop to it. It took a lot of time, but one of her biggest aids during her times of rehabilitation ended up being Sander. Of course, there was also the consistent, solid support that was the rest of the group, but no one seemed to understand the mental battle like Sander did.

After Sander joined them in 1972, struggling to adjust on top of an emerging mental illness, his painting became the biggest solace of all. While Sander had been studying visual arts when he died, it still took him a minute to jump back into it after he was turned. Lola had dabbled in art before she had died as well but she never genuinely took the time to take it seriously. She never considered that it could mean something to her.

They were living up in the mountains to help Sander get better acquainted with his new life. It was refreshing. They were there for a while, the clan owned a house in crisper, cooler air, free from the world that had threatened to break each one of them. It was mainly for Sander, struggling to adjust, but they all came to admit it did some good for them too. The house had enough room for everyone, with some extra to spare, and one night, Sander wandered into one of those rooms with his brushes and his paint. His hand worked on it’s own accord that night, the walls blank and then the next- a beautiful portrait of Yasmina covered the floor to ceiling. Next, a horizon of pink sunrise.

Lola, itching to smoke something, had found him there. They didn’t speak as she picked up a brush and joined him. 

It took barely any time at all for Lola to begin facing extreme withdrawal symptoms, something they don’t tell you when you become a vampire. While alcohol and drugs still had an effect on them that didn’t mean they were exempt from the aftermath of being an addict. The only place she could bare it was in the art room with Sander, and there were many nights that she sat in the corner, shaking with her head between her knees. Sander began to draw her, and then he began to read to her. And hold her hand. He helped her until she got back on her feet, and by then it was already a nightly routine, a distraction from her addictions, a solace for both of them. A saving grace.

Robbe imagined Sander pressing a paint brush to her nose, them sitting together and laughing in their little room away from the world. He nudged his face closer to Sander’s shoulder, a little devastated to look up and see whatever emotions were on his face.

Noor was currently working at a bar. A social spirit, a fan of the people, an extrovert in every sense of the word. She enjoyed dabbling in different jobs everywhere she went while Lola continued her art. The two combatted each other in the best ways possible, as they always had. Most in common was how they relentlessly teased Sander, Yasmina and Zoe for deciding to go back to school again and again. It wasn’t their cup of tea. Their spirits ran a little wild, in love with the rush of possibility and the unknown. And they both simply despised school. There was also that.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Noor nodded to the shot glasses she had placed beside everyone’s chairs. “We need more than eggnog.” She kissed Lola’s cheek and handed her the shot on the ground.

Sander passed Robbe his as well, and they all held them up before downing them at the same time. Robbe felt the familiar burn hit his stomach and was immediately yearning for more. He supposed getting drunk with vampires was something to cross off of his brand new bucket list.

And drunk they certainly got. Noor pulled Robbe back inside the cottage to help her make more drinks, and the alcohol loosened him up, shyness fading with every sip. He had been getting better the past few days, but alcohol was still his best bet when it came to relaxing.

“Margaritas?” Noor fished more cups from the top shelf of the counter, standing on her tippy-toes to reach. “What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey?” Robbe answered honestly, and Noor dramatically recoiled in shock. “What?”

“I would have guessed rum,” She said, turning around and grabbing the whiskey that rested on the island. “Or gin and tonic.”

Robbe raised his hands in defense. “Sorry, what do you want me to help with?”

“You can grab the Coke from the fridge,” Noor ordered as she pushed his whiskey off to the side and made everyone else's drinks, hands working as if she knew their favourites by heart. “Oh, and grab an iced tea for Yasmina.”

Robbe nodded as he swung open the fridge and grabbed the two things. When he kicked it shut he found Noor already done, balancing a few of the drinks in her arms. He didn’t know if that speed was something he’d ever get used to. Robbe grabbed what she couldn’t carry and followed her out of the kitchen to find the others filing back in, Milan clapping his hands together excitedly. 

“We’re playing beer pong!” He exclaimed as Zoe and Yasmina dashed around the room, moving the dining table to the centre and pushing everything out of the way. Robbe’s eyes didn’t know what to focus on, Sander relieving him of drinks and passing them around, Yasmina and Noor laying out the cups in formation, Lola flopping onto the sofa to watch.

“Is that fair?” Robbe blurted out in a moment of intoxicated confidence.

Yasmina snorted from beside him as Noor handed her the bottle of Iced Tea. “There he goes again with the fairness thing.”

He nudged her in the side playfully with a quiet, “Shhh.”

“It’s actually Yasmina and I who have the best shot at winning,” Lola said, pulling Noor into her lap from behind. “I stick to one or two drinks max these days.”

Yasmina shrugged off her cardigan and watched with distaste as they chugged their alcohol. “Drunk vampires are like clumsy humans, your best shot would be staying sober.”

“Too late,” Robbe swayed and swallowed his whiskey in one go. Sander clapped him on the back, and Robbe couldn’t stop the sloppy side grin slipping onto his face. He took note of Sander’s darkening eyes and tousled hair, and all he could do was laugh. They were both going to be so fucked up. Excitement hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Yasmina had been right. They were all absolutely awful at beer pong. Even Lola who had only one shot of vodka was distracted by Noor’s cheering and missed by a longshot, letting out an aggravated yell that was replaced by goofy grin when Noor pouted. She ended her turn by tackling Noor against the couch and the rest of them had to move on while a makeout session ensued in the background. Robbe got his first two shots in but after that, nothing, his vision swaying a little too much to have any kind of aim at all. Yasmina won with graceful ease and a patronizing bow to the room, and Robbe would have made a snarky comment if it weren’t for Sander hooking his fingers into the front of his shirt and messily kissing all over his face.

They were interrupted by Milan, launching himself half onto the table for support. “You know what’s really unfair? Being drunk with no one to kiss. You all suck.”

Zoe had her fingers intertwined with Yasmina, whether that be congratulatory or not. Robbe was pretty sure it was the latter, but still, she raised her glass. “There’s a fix for that.”

“What?” Milan asked, pouring himself another shot with a pout.

“Spin the bottle,” Zoe said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if they were all sixteen year olds again.

Robbe looked up at Sander with raised eyebrows, and Sander shrugged so Robbe knew he wouldn’t have a problem with it. It’s not like Robbe did either. He was far too drunk to care, and apparently, so was everyone else. He felt light and airy and _happy_. There was a difference between being drunk with a group of people like this, in a cottage with snow trickling down from the sky, encasing them in a protective barrier, and a grungry bar with a hundred people who didn’t know his name. Robbe felt belonging in a way he had never felt it before, but he would have time to think about that later. Now was time for some fun.

“Hey,” Milan raised his hands. “If everyone else wants to, I’m game.”

“Oh, I am so down,” Noor sat up from where her and Lola were tangled on the couch.

Everyone else was in agreement so Milan let out an excited squeal and dashed to the kitchen and back in seconds flat, holding an empty beer bottle. Robbe pulled Sander down beside him as they all sat in a circle where the dining table had previously been and Milan placed the bottle in the center. Sander was on Robbe’s right, Yasmina on his left with Zoe, then Milan in front of him with Noor and Lola closing in on the rest of the space beside Sander. 

“I’m going first, because I’ve been kiss-less the longest,” Milan leaned forward to spin the bottle, and everyone watched in silence as it spun a little too fast and finally- landed on Noor. Noor scrunched up her nose in playful mocking as Milan wasted no time in barging forward on his knees, placing his hands on her cheeks and kissing her. With tongue. 

Lola watched with raised brows and took a sip of her beer, eyeing Noor’s mouth work. Robbe let out a laugh at her face, and Yasmina snorted beside him, whether it be at the kiss or at his state. 

When they finally pulled away, Noor looked at Lola with a shrug. “He went for it.”

Noor went next. Robbe watched it go round and round and round, almost dizzying, before he found himself face to face with the top of it. All eyes found him as Noor tilted her head with raised eyebrows, grinning wide and cheery, and Sander ran a hand over his face. Noor winked. 

“I’m coming for him, Sander.”

“Have fun,” Came Sander’s reply as he dropped his hands to his lap. He was an innocent bystander, but if Robbe were sober, he might have picked up on the curious tick in his expression.

Noor crawled forward until she was resting on her knees in front of him, and Robbe had only had a brief moment to recall the last time he had kissed a girl. It was high school, for sure, but he could barely remember the feeling, only that her lips had been small and chapped and he knew there was something off there. Noor rested her pale hands on Robbe’s knees and leaned down to kiss him, and it was unmistakably better than that girl in high school. The alcohol allowed him to have fun with it, lips parting in time with hers. He followed her lead, chasing the kiss forward a bit when she leaned back. He just loved kissing, really. Everything felt so good, warm, electric. Maybe that was just drunk him speaking, but honestly? Sometimes he wished he could kiss forever. He felt Sander’s eyes burning into him as he kissed her back a little eagerly, taking in the smell of vanilla and rum. Everyone else was laughing around them, and Robbe saw why. The look on Sander’s face as Noor pulled away and sat back on her haunches? Priceless.

An opportunity for revenge appeared mere moments later, because it was Lola’s turn, and that spin landed on Sander. The odds of that were hilarious. Lola gave Noor a daring look as if to say _watch this_ , and then she was straddling Sander. Sander jumped a bit in shock, but his arms came up to hold her biceps and kiss her back, drunk and filthy with Lola’s fingers laced into his icy hair. Robbe waited for the jealousy to hit him, but surprisingly, none came. And it must have been because the alcohol swimming in his system mixed with the stories that had been told mere hours ago. He was once again imagining them sitting in a studio, late at night, silently painting their sorrows away. He felt himself get a bit warmer with the way Sander moved a hand to her hip, then her back. He was so used to that being him. Did he look like that? When he arched into Sander’s kisses, did he look like that?

Yasmina poked Robbe’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Is it weird?” She asked.

Robbe tore his eyes away from Sander and Lola to look at Yasmina, but his eyes roamed to Zoe’s form in his periphery too. “You’ll see.”

“We’re not-” Yasmina’s eyes widened and she spoke and it was even quieter than before, although Robbe wondered what the point was in a room full of vampires. 

“Mhm,” Robbe took another swig of whiskey. “Mmhmm.” He slurred.

Lola pulled away and patted the top of Sander’s head, falling off of him and crawling back over to Noor. Noor shrugged, no reaction other than a sly split of teeth. “Well, that was hot, I can’t even complain.”

Sander snuck a peak at Robbe, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. Robbe leaned over to kiss his cheek, silently letting him know that he was in agreement with Noor. He hoped this was one of those moments where it felt like Sander could read his mind because he was having a grand time.

Sander spun next, and it landed on Zoe. Robbe barely spared their kiss a glance because he kept his focus on Yasmina. She tried to keep her face even, Robbe could give her that much, but he could still see past it. Her jaw was clenched a little too hard and a slight twitch of her eyebrow showed Robbe all he needed to know, even in his intoxicated state.

By the time it was Robbe’s turn to spin, he was a giggling, grinning mess. To the point that, when the bottle landed on Milan and everyone cheered that Milan would get another kiss, Robbe crawled right over to him and onto his lap, wasting no time. And when they kissed, Robbe arched his back into it. Sander tended to be quite admirable of Robbe’s body, the flush of his cheeks, the curve of his spine, his hands, so Robbe gave him a bit of a show. He wrapped his arms around Milan’s neck and Milan rested his hands on Robbe’s shoulder blades, and everyone else lost it in fits of laughter and shouting. The kiss though, it was deep, sloppy. Robbe’s lips were almost numb, red and bitten where Milan’s enthusiasm kept up for what felt like actual minutes. Milan may not have been kissed in quite some time, but his expertise shined through the sloppiness of the whole endeavor. When Robbe pulled away, Milan winked at him and gave him a soft pat to the cheek. He turned his eyes across the circle. “You’re welcome.”

Robbe crawled back over to an undone Sander, and when Robbe fell against his shoulder, he realized Sander was boiling hot, the sort that was uncomfortable. Robbe snorted as he soothed some of Sander’s hair off of his face, resting the back of his hand on Sander's cheek, a little attempt to cool him off and ground him. Robbe could sense a bit of jealousy there in the way Sander was averting eye contact and sending quick looks at Milan, but otherwise, Sander seemed to be on the same level of drunk as Robbe. Robbe poked his nose, and Sander was back to looking sheepish. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Robbe leaned his head on Sander’s shoulder and giggled. “I know.”

After two rounds around the circle practically everyone had kissed everyone. It was one of Robbe’s last turns and it landed on Yasmina, and before Robbe had time to playfully gag, Sander was leaning forward and turning the bottle back towards himself. For once, it was Noor’s turn to claim, “Unfair!” but Robbe barely heard her over the rush in his ears. Sander gripped the front of Robbe’s shirt and pulled him towards the floor, gripping his shoulders and kissing him senseless. So, maybe, Sander had been a little more jealous than Robbe had thought. God, and all those kisses later, Robbe still felt unnerved in the best way possible with Sander’s lips on him, Sander opening him up, kissing him so thoroughly he wouldn’t even remember anything but this and this and this.

By the time they all broke away for bed, Robbe could feel himself coming down a bit from his drunken stupor. He was still wobbly on his feet getting up the stairs, and when Sander closed their bedroom door behind them, he somehow managed to strip down to his boxers and crawl into bed in one piece.

Sander wandered into the bed a moment later, shrugging his jeans down his legs and shirt over his head. He didn’t say a word as he crawled into bed, copying Robbe’s position behind him. Robbe’s eyes roamed over his face, doing a quick check. For a moment he was worried that maybe the spin the bottle game had gone a little too far, but Robbe could sense it was more than that. Sander’s eyes were almost black before he shut them sleepily a couple times. He seemed very tired. Drained. Like sleep couldn’t cure this kind.

Robbe trailed a gentle finger over Sander’s cheek. “All good?” 

Sander’s shrug got lost under the covers. “I thought drinking would help me feel better after… after hearing everything Noor and Lola said at the campfire. But now that I’m sobering up, I’m still feeling it. I don’t know why hearing it all again affects me this much. I’ve been alive for so long. I’ve heard it so much, I-”

That made sense, Robbe knew the campfire stories were taking a toll on Sander. They sat in silence for a moment until Robbe rolled onto his back and opened his arm. Sander shuffled over so that his face was buried in Robbe’s neck, his arm hung over his chest. Robbe softly ran a hand through his hair. Sometimes, there was nothing more he could do than just this. Other times, there was. Sander seemed to tense up as he exhaled hot air against Robbe’s jugular, his lips trailing the skin there. Robbe shivered, suddenly remembering that he had every ability to help Sander feel better. 

“Hey,” Robbe spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

Sander kissed his neck. “No, I’m fine.”

“Sander,” Robbe turned his head to look down at Sander’s dark eyes, serious and sobered just a little. “Go ahead. I want you to.”

Sander’s eyes shut, his mouth partly open as he nudged Robbe’s neck with his nose. It was when he looked the most vulnerable, when he was like this. Robbe knew he wanted his blood with every fibre of his being, his throat yearning for it. Robbe just wanted him to understand that he enjoyed this just as much, his heart rate already picking up.

Sander held his face there, still but steady. “You’re nervous.” He heard Robbe’s heart.

“I want this,” Robbe said. “So badly.”

“Mmm,” Sander licked at Robbe’s neck. So close but not enough, like he was testing it out. “Want you so bad.”

“Please…”

Sander brought a hand up to hold the side of Robbe’s head, cradling him close, and then he was biting.

The only thing Robbe could do was moan, a euphoric feeling coming on quicker than any drug he’d ever taken. It felt like his entire body was turned up a notch, every nerve, every cell, every atom. That feeling was immediate and inescapable, so he arched into it, incapable of resisting. He moaned again, and when he closed his eyes, Sander let out a similar sound, the hand on Robbe’s head pulling him even closer. Then the pressure from the side of his head was gone and at his cheek, hand finding Robbe’s jaw and pressing a finger into his bottom lip. 

Robbe wanted to pull that finger into his mouth and teethe at it, he just wanted. Robbe couldn’t control the noises that escaped his mouth. It was a feeling like no other, something that he knew only a small percentage of people had ever felt. Above all else, he knew he was giving Sander something too. Something that made him feel better, more whole, more alive. 

Robbe felt outside of his body, the entire lower half of him on fire. He floated there, Sander’s teeth in his neck the only thing keeping him grounded. When Sander pulled away moments later, he lapped at the skin with his tongue, leaving hickies to cover the mark. 

He pushed Robbe’s sweaty hair off of his face and sat beside him, some blood still smeared on his lips. Robbe weakly brought a hand up to cup Sander’s face, trailing his thumb over Sander’s bloody mouth. Sander took that as a sign to lean down and kiss him softly on the lips, and then he finished them both off.

Every muscle was glued to the bed as Sander cleaned them both up, so sweetly, so delicately. Robbe watched him with droopy eyes, surely a mix of alcohol coursing through his veins and the general weakness, but when Sander pulled him close, Robbe buried his head into Sander’s now-cold chest in giddy content. He looked up at Sander and saw that his eyes were back to a vibrant green, that contentedness reflected in them.

“Feel better?” Robbe asked, voice coming out frail.

“I love you so much, Robbe.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

\---

The digital 6:00am blinked at Robbe when he rolled over, unsure why he was awake at such an early hour. Sander had actually decided to sleep that night, and Robbe couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the rarity that Robbe would wake up early on a morning when Sander was sound asleep. Robbe took a moment to stare at his peaceful face, at the laugh lines that were evident even in his lax state, at his hair puffed up and his strangely still-demeanor. 

He decided he wouldn’t disturb Sander, and it was quite easy, considering when Sander slept he became dead to the world around him. Robbe pulled on his plaid pajama pants and Sander’s leather jacket and quietly made his way down the stairs and out through the screen door in the living room. There was a little back porch that spread around the back of the house, and he was immediately met with the smell of a cigarette. He turned his head toward the source to find Lola leaning against the railing, blowing smoke out into the cool morning. It could just as easily be mistaken for a cold breath. Her long brown hair ruffled by the breeze, a black bomber jacket open over top a plain white t-shirt.

Robbe made his way over to her as she nodded at him. “You’re up early.”

He shrugged. “So are you.” 

She passed him the cigarette and he took it, deciding a puff or two might be nice. He took a drag, leaning his elbows on the railing as well. She smirked at the comment, staring out at the water. 

They smoked in silence for a few minutes. Sander had explained that Lola was a good person to sit in a comfortable quiet, and Robbe could see why. She exerted a no-bullshit, honest energy. But other than that, she was the clan member Robbe had known least about before this trip, and maybe even now.

“It’s weird,” Lola looked sidelong at him. “I feel like I’ve known you longer than this week.”

Robbe looked back at her and leaned his chin against the palm of his hand. “Really?”

Lola nodded, hitting some of the built up ash off of the cigarette with the tip of her finger. “You were all over his art. You still are.”

Robbe looked back in front of them, a small smile in his eyes. He was back to imagining Lola and Sander in the 70s painting together in a small room, sitting side by side and opening up about the things they feared most. 

“His art started… changing when he met you,” Lola shrugged, squinting. “Of course, it changed a lot over the years. You should have seen it when we first met. It was… dark. I mean, so was mine, but… I don’t know. Now you’re everywhere.” She nudged him playfully. “He likes your eyes.”

Robbe laughed, shaking his head. “I’m glad he had you.”

“I’m glad he has you,” Lola looked at him sincerely. “He’s been waiting for you for a long time.”

Robbe noticed a small mark on the inside of her wrist, looking to be very similar to the one on his own neck, resting just beside the cigarette in her hand. Robbe couldn’t quite bring his eyes away from it, a burning question sitting on his tongue, but Lola caught him staring before he had to ask.

“Noor,” She snorted, shaking her head and blowing more smoke through her mouth. “She loves biting.”

“Oh I didn’t know you could-” Robbe had no idea how to phrase this. “Bite each other?”

It was Lola’s turn to eye the bite mark on Robbe’s neck without subtlety, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “It’s not the same,” She nodded to his neck. “As that. Vampires sucking each other’s blood is… well, it’s a pleasure thing.”

A pleasure thing. So, in another universe, if Robbe was a vampire he could… give Sander what he’s been giving to Robbe. In a different way, that is, because Lola said it was different. Robbe allowed himself to think about it just for a brief moment. Sharp fangs digging into Sander’s skin, the taste of him on his tongue, Sander’s back arched underneath him. Robbe hadn’t realized he was gritting his teeth as hard as he was before Lola ripped him out of his thoughts with a poke to his shoulder.

Robbe played it off as sleepiness, blinking a few times, and rapidly changed the subject. This was something he needed to process on his own, and Lola, as much of a tease as she was, let him. She went along with it as he changed the topic to school, his hobbies. Music, skateboarding, a chase for something more. Robbe decided he really liked Lola. They exchanged stories back and forth for over an hour, and Lola had a knowing look in her eye when Robbe talked about cliff diving, telling him that after she became sober she relied on other things. One of them was adrenaline chasing.

Robbe studied her face. “I can relate.”

She leaned her elbow on the railing and her head in her hand, staring into his eyes. “Yeah?”

Robbe nodded, keeping the eye contact. “After my mom died it became… a lifeline.”

She looked at him for a moment, eyes full of understanding. “You should tell us about her one night. At the campfire.”

Robbe laughed darkly. “I don’t think it’s very interesting.”

Lola was about to reply when a shout made them both abruptly turn their heads. Yasmina and Zoe had been standing on the dock before Yasmina pushed Zoe into the water, but Zoe, stellar reflexes, had grabbed onto her arm and pulled her in with her. They were both laughing and splashing each other, fully clothed. It had to be freezing, but Robbe, in a tired daze, forgot they wouldn’t feel it.

Lola was watching them with that same knowing look on her eye. She always had an aura about her that said she knew more than everyone else. “About time.”

Robbe raised an eyebrow as he looked from Lola’s face and back to Zoe and Yasmina in the water. They were still laughing and Yasmina was swimming closer until- until she was pressing a kiss to Zoe’s lips. Robbe nodded to himself in understanding. He had known, sure, but now it was confirmed. Lola watched them for a moment before leaning back up and stretching.

“I feel like I’m spying,” She remarked. “Come on.”

Robbe followed her back inside to find Sander walking down the stairs, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Lola nodded at Robbe before disappearing upstairs, presumably to find Noor. Robbe grabbed Sander’s hands and pulled him onto the couch beside him. Sander groaned as he aggressively wiped at his face and Robbe watched him with an amused expression.

“What day is it?” Sander asked. Sander had explained that the waking up process, for a vampire, was a little debilitating. Robbe thought Sander was the cutest thing in the world after he slept.

“You slept, like, six hours.”

“Impossible,” Sander fell forwards to bury his face in Robbe’s lap and Robbe giggled, threading his fingers through his hair. “Robbe, please, I need coffee.”

Robbe was about to get up when he stopped, thinking about what he had just seen. He played with a strand of his blonde hair as he contemplated how to bring it up.

“So, Zoe and Yasmina-”

“Oh yeah, I know.”

“You know?” Robbe asked as Sander sat up, stretching his neck.

“Mhm,” Sander nodded. “No secrets in this house.” He teasingly looked from Robbe’s eyes to his lips and back up again. Robbe felt a flush of arousal somewhere below his stomach. “No noise goes unheard, either.”

“Better keep me quiet then,” Robbe flirted, eyes dark. 

“Impossible for you.”

Sander was suddenly attacking his lips and Robbe fell backwards onto the couch as Sander pinned his wrists behind his head. He was right, Robbe couldn’t keep quiet as Sander did a considerable amount of damage to his neck and Robbe’s back arched. He didn’t have it in him to give a damn where anyone else was as Sander lifted his shirt up to caress his back. Robbe weaved his fingers into Sander’s hair and tugged gently, needing Sander’s lips on his again. 

Robbe’s mouth was sore and puffy when the screen door beside the couch was opening. Robbe jumped, and Sander groaned and hung his head against Robbe’s chest in annoyance. Robbe could only giggle as Zoe and Yasmina joined them in the living room, both soaking wet from the lake.

“Uh,” Zoe held Yasmina’s hand as they walked past. “Sorry?”

Sander sat up and shook his head, too nice to actually be visibly upset. “Make me coffee and I’ll forgive you.”

“Not a chance.” Yasmina retorted. She began tugging Zoe’s hand as a cue for them to leave them alone, but Zoe stayed put. Zoe seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh as her eyes darted down from Robbe’s face. Yasmina shushed her and covered her mouth, also overcome with whatever their inside joke was.

“What?” Sander finally gave in.

Zoe finally made eye contact with Sander, and with a nod towards Robbe she said, “Someone’s well fed.”

Oh, _oh no_. Robbe felt his face flush red as the mark on his neck suddenly felt a hundred sizes bigger. It was one thing for Lola to nod to it, and another thing for Zoe and Yasmina to actually, legitimately, acknowledge it. It didn’t help that he remembered they all had enhanced hearing and had probably known exactly what was happening when they smelled the blood. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Sander seemed less bothered in his sleepy state, which may have been a good thing, if it weren’t for his next sentence. “Yeah, fed up.”

“Oh Sander,” Yasmina shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. “That was bad.”

Sander pouted and looked at Robbe. His left eye, which was normally a little lazy, was even more so as he waited for Robbe to take his side. Robbe looked from Sander, to Yasmina, to Zoe. 

Robbe had no choice but to say, “We can work on it.”

Zoe and Yasmina laughed as they finally left Robbe and Sander alone, and Sander was still pouting, his bottom lip flushed and pink. Robbe smiled innocently. “Sorry?”

Sander just sank deeper into the couch and curled into a ball. “Coffee.”

Robbe figured it was an even trade-off, so got up to make Sander coffee.

\---

Later that night Noor was setting up the campfire outside so Robbe went to join her. She was bent over the firewood with her back to him, and before he could say hello she was muttering, “I asked Robbe to help, not-”

She turned around and her eyes widened in shock, freezing. Robbe just awkwardly looked at her, twiddling his fingers together.

She let out a laugh, but it contradicted the slightly worried expression on her face. She tucked a piece of short hair behind her ear and tilted her head. “I thought you were Sander.”

“Oh-” Robbe stared. “Sorry?”

“No-” Noor squinted. “It’s just- you smell like him now.”

Robbe couldn’t comprehend why that made her look worried as he joined her side and kneeled down to fiddle with the wood. But then he had a sudden thought-

“Is that bad?” Robbe asked, looking at her as she knelt beside him. “I mean- because of… vampire hunters?” He recalled, remembering how Milan had talked about their weapons that were laced with human blood.

She shook her head. “No, they don’t have that kind of sense. Vampires do, but only with others of our kind. We can smell other vampires easily, and their territories, and who’s in which clan, but that’s about the extent of it.”

Robbe nodded, taking it in. “So they could tell that I’m… associated? By my smell?”

“Essentially.”

“Are there a lot of vampires in Antwerp?” Robbe asked as the fire started going, the heat hitting his face.

Noor shook her head again. “Hardly, actually. We tend to spread out. Really, there’s nothing to worry about. It just caught me off guard.” She offered him a smile that didn’t have him fully convinced.

Yasmina was appearing from the trees holding more firewood in her hands, and she dashed over to crouch beside Robbe. “What are we talking about?”

Noor shrugged, looking between Yasmina and Robbe. Robbe thought about all that Yasmina knew about the vampire world, her years and years of research and couldn’t help himself from asking one more question: “Are vampire hunters still common?”

Yasmina clapped her hands together to get off the remaining wood dust from her hands as she put on her thinking-face. The question seemed to surprise her but not as much as it had Noor. She seemed almost curious herself. 

“No, hardly,” She finally said, slowly and with her eyes staring at the space above the fire. “I mean, I’m sure there’s some. But we haven’t had a run-in since the nineties.”

Robbe nodded, and he would have asked more, but the rest of the clan was starting to trickle outside, so Robbe saved his questions for another day.

\---

Sander Driesen had never known love like this before.

There were a few girlfriends when he was human. People that he often wondered if he could have loved if they had not run away the second things got hard. That was his life, people running away. First, his friends when they got wind that something wasn’t quite right with Sander’s sanity. Second, his girlfriends when he used grand gestures to proclaim his affection within weeks of knowing them and they called him too intense. Third, his father, and, well, his mother too, once he became too much to deal with. Sander had been conditioned to wait for people to leave. Conditioned to believe that he deserved it, that they were better off without him.

The clan helped him unlearn that, but there was only so much they could do. He was able to accept that he deserved his place in their family and that they weren’t going to abandon him when his mental illness got the best of him. But the fear remained, the fear that he would never have what Noor and Lola have. Or Milan and Ivan had, or Zoe and Senne. In fact, there was freezing terror that there wasn’t a soul out there who could stand to love him. He had only ever known a firm hand, so the way they handled him with such tenderness was an ironic shock to his system.

And then there was Robbe.

And Robbe kept surprising him. God, he was so gentle. And patient. And the love he had to give was relentless and infinite. Robbe was a warm light guiding him to where he needed to be. Guiding him to peace and acceptance and a newfound love for life that he didn’t think existed. A fire that caught that day on the cliffs and had only continued scorching every day since. The beginning of his life as a vampire was rough. It got better, yes, but there was always something there. The others knew it, too. They knew he struggled to stay afloat, to not let his mind drag him down a dark tunnel that he couldn’t come back from. He was okay. But he was lonely. And sad most days. 

Until Robbe.

Sander had believed that his life truly began when he became a vampire, but he’d been wrong.

His life began when he met Robbe.

Robbe sat on the edge of their seat by the campfire with Sander tucked behind him in the corner. Sander kept a warm hand on his back as he began to speak. It was their last night at the cottage and Robbe had decided to listen to Lola and talk a bit about his own past tonight. 

Robbe cleared his throat. “First of all I just wanted to… thank you all, for sharing your stories with me and for welcoming me.” 

Robbe said the next part specifically to Milan and Zoe. “I’ve dealt with loss too.”

Sander had heard a lot of what Robbe told them, but there were still little bits and pieces that were new to him. Like that his dad refused to pay his part of the child support and Robbe and his mom were living on one meal a day for a while. Milan watched with encouraging eyes and Sander could tell he was feeling guilty about calling Robbe so skinny the other day, reeling through anything else he may have said. Sander also knew that going forward Milan would make sure Robbe wasn’t hungry a day in his life. Sander felt a brief, warm comfort that if anything ever happened to him, the clan would be there for Robbe. He could tell by the way they were looking at him that they had already claimed him as their own. He could tell by the way Zoe reached over to squeeze his knee when he said that last part, and Lola’s knowing gaze, and Yasmina’s intentful listening.

Sander knew it was a big deal that Robbe was opening up about his mom because he so rarely did. He talked about her laugh, and their roadtrips, and he reached up to hold the pendant as he choked up a bit. Sander’s squeezed his other hand in silent understanding, and Robbe kept going because he was comfortable. No one interrupted except for the occasional laugh and joking reply. Sander watched the way Robbe’s fingers fiddled with the pendant, or Sander’s hand, or how he brushed his nose. He watched how his eyes moved back and forth as he told a story, and he looked half in the present, half in the world he was describing. Sander couldn’t believe Robbe had only been on the earth for twenty-two years and he was already so wise. His heart ached because he knew his experiences made him grow up too fast.

“Anyway,” Robbe chuckled shyly. “Thank you for letting me come, I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

“Cheers to that,” Noor held up her drink and they all copied her, cheering and laughing as Sander pulled him back against his chest and kissed all over his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever talked that much in my life,” Robbe said as they all went back to talking over each other.

\---

And that night, after they all retired to their beds for the last time, a little drunk and promising to head back to campus at first light, they packed their bags so that they could dart off in the morning. Robbe fell asleep with the angel pendant resting between his thumb and his chest, and he made a mental promise to himself to not forget a single detail of the past lives the clan had promised him with, to keep them safe and protected along with the memories of the past week.

And when they drove away the next morning, the lake getting smaller and smaller in the side mirrors, Robbe hoped he would get to see the cottage again soon. But he had another pressing matter to deal with first, one that had been growing for far longer than he thought. Something buried at the bottom of the ocean that he had been treading around, waves pushing him in the direction with more force, with every tale he was told, with every growing fear of loss and time and the unknown.

Robbe wanted to be a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT so, a few things!
> 
> for those of you that missed the tumblr post, yes, this is a few days late but you can't snipe me because without the extra days of editing with emma, the backstories would have been LESS cool. as per usual, emma, the backbone of this fic, an editing god, literally a genius, i love you & thank you & ..... everyone else go thank her. seriously. GO. the hours she is putting into this i.... sound like a broken record but seriously, i can't stress this enough, I LOVE HER. i am indebted.
> 
> SPEAKING OF EMMA, she made the coolest trailer i have ever seen for this fic!! GO WATCH. IT'S SO COOL. there's lots of little nods to this chapter and also, some little nods to future stuff.... hehe. GO. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bem672rSxhE
> 
> NEXT, y'all probably know eddi's god tier gifmaking skills from tumblr, and i am so honoured that she took time to make a gifset for this chapter, AAAAAND headers!! on top of the eddi love, i consulted with her about everything to do with yasmina's backstory, so thank you eddi for your muslim expertise!! yasmina's backstory is my favourite 
> 
> GIFSET: https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/619878235257389056/paint-me-in-trust-by-themoongirl-updates-every
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe
> 
> emma's tumblr:  
> lolahydri
> 
> eddi's tumblr:  
> sekoui


	4. contaminated

The thing about Robbe Ijzermans, the kind hearted, doe eyed boy sitting in the passenger seat of Sander’s car, was that he was downright awful at hiding a damn thing. With time and some effort, Sander was having an easier time reading him, but he couldn’t imagine it was something to brag about. Especially now, when Robbe refused to meet his eyes and kept his head turned to watch their approach toward campus. Snow fell faster onto the windshield, and Sander changed the setting on the wipers to pick up the pace. Sander was positive they must have looked odd to passerby cars, wearing only a t-shirt himself while Robbe sat bundled in Sander’s hoodie and jacket. Bowie could hardly be heard because Sander had turned the volume down to five when he realized that Robbe was acting off, and Robbe hadn’t noticed.

Robbe dug his nails into the palms of his hands, and his expression looked to be trying too hard for nonchalance. Sander had to suppress a laugh.

“Whenever you’re ready,” He spoke up, elbow perched casually on the window. “Let me have it.”

“Mm?” Robbe muttered, gaze never straying from the road in front of him.

“Was it my family?” Sander asked. “Did Milan say something?”

“What, no!” Robbe finally turned to look at him with eyes widening. “No no, nothing like that.”

“Okay,” Sander eased up. “Then what?”

“This is the one time I’m cursing your vampire senses.”

Sander couldn’t hold back the laugh this time. “I don’t think I need vampire senses to know something is on your mind.”

Robbe shifted, running a hand through his hair. Sander was patient. Another thing he had learned about Robbe was he had some difficulty getting his words out sometimes. He always hesitated. Robbe was still digging his nails into his palm so Sander reached forward to uncurl his fingers, holding his hand and resting it near the gear shift. Robbe seemed to relax a little, and Sander would never get sick of seeing the effect he had on Robbe. In every sense, but more specifically this. When the touch of a hand was all he needed to calm down, when a peck to the cheek made him more centred.

“I don’t think now is the time to talk about it,” Robbe said, voice barely above a whisper. 

That sent a spike of nerves straight down Sander’s spine. He was used to having a brain that spiralled, overthinking even the slightest of differences in tone and movement. He used to have a hard time with Milan especially, reading every inch of distance between them as one step closer to being tossed to the streets. People were annoyed with him? He’d ignore them the rest of the night in hopes of escaping. Robbe had gotten good at circumventing these issues, always so honest and reassuring with his touches and words.

Only now, as he spoke words that so often suggested a worse conversation.

“Oh,” Sander gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say. 

Robbe squeezed his hand. “It’s nothing bad, at least- I don’t think so.”

Sander just nodded, voice stuck in his throat.

“Sander?” Robbe turned in his seat. Sander just kept staring ahead. 

Sander pressed his head back harder into the headrest. “If I said something-”

“Hey,” Robbe cut him off. “You didn’t.”

They’d left pretty early in the morning and were on a road with next to no other cars, so Sander decided to impulsively pull over to the side. Robbe said nothing as he put the car in park and let go of Robbe’s hand to turn the volume all the way down, shifting sideways and keeping his eyes on the floorboards of the car. Sander hated how he got like this, so suddenly insecure in himself that he thought he had said something without meaning to, or fucked up again without even realizing. But he was also learning to not let those thoughts linger for long, especially with someone he loved and trusted. Someone who would never hurt him, or withhold information, or play mind games.

Sander clenched his jaw as he saw Robbe turn to him in his periphery. Robbe put a hand on Sander’s knee and squeezed, so Sander’s eyes roamed up to meet Robbe’s. They were so soft, so understanding, so patient, and Sander had no idea what he did to deserve this.

“Sorry I just,” Sander found himself saying before he could stop. “I’m impatient.”

Robbe surprised him by giggling and squeezing his knee tighter, brown curls falling on his forehead and laugh wrinkles carving into his cheeks. Robbe leaned his cheek against the seat and Sander couldn’t help but smile back, the mood lightening. Sander copied Robbe’s position in the driver's seat and waited. Robbe, realizing it was his turn to speak, let his eyes roam to the cup holders between them and his smile slowly fade from his face. Sander didn’t move.

Robbe cleared his throat. “Okay, well, it’s a lot. I just-”

Robbe cut himself off. Sander waited again, willing to stall for however long Robbe needed.

“I was just doing some thinking and-”

Robbe’s voice shook, and he swallowed.

“I mean, I don’t know if you’ve thought about it too, but-”

Silence.

“The possibility of me… becoming… uh, like you.”

Return to silence. A car zooming past them. Snow compiling on the windows, the car getting colder, Robbe’s cheeks and nose red because of it and something else. He was blushing. 

Sander had known this was coming. He knew and he dreaded it and here it was. Robbe was… well, it was probably easier to define what Robbe wasn’t. He wasn’t just a _someone_. He wasn’t just a boyfriend, a friend, a one night stand. Language didn’t do it justice, but Robbe was his mate. His person. In every sense of the act and nature of it. It had felt like an eternity waiting for this entity Sander was destined to love, and now, here he was, with a whole face and a name and a life on display. Here, warm-blooded and in the flesh. Sander had spent so much of his life wanting what was right here, wearing his clothes, sitting beside him. Wanting love, to be loved, to be in love. The yearning for it became deafening when he used to watch Milan and Ivan, Noor and Lola. And when he discovered that vampires mate, well, he longed for it in every way he could. And then he watched Milan and Zoe lose their people, yet he longed despite it all. Now that he had Robbe, the fear didn’t go away, it only grew and grew until words wouldn’t do it justice either. The implications of Robbe’s death sat heavier on his chest than anything else. 

And he knew the logical explanation for that. Robbe could be like him. Less fragile. Immortal. They could have eternity together.

But even now, as Robbe sat in front of him, blood flushing in his cheeks, his neck, he looked so alive and beautifully human. He had so much life in front of him; it made Sander physically ache. Robbe was human. Robbe had been human before Sander, falling and bleeding and healing and learning, and he was still human.

How could Sander take that away from him?

How could Sander drag Robbe into his world? His world, the one with its own abundance of danger and loss? Where Robbe would never be able to move forward, frozen? And there was more to it, factors that Sander didn’t want to say for fear of coming off as patronizing. The reality was that, while it might all seem one way, especially after spending a week with vampires and hearing the stories, there was more to this life. Robbe may have an idea of what it’s like to be a vampire, but he doesn’t have the slightest clue what it’s really like to walk around all but dead. The point to everything feeling pretty damn nonexistent. Robbe didn’t know, because no one ever said it. Sander knew deep down that meant that there would still come a day that Sander would lose him, but if that meant that Robbe lived a life, a real one, Sander didn’t know what kind of person he was if he took that away. Sander would deal with that when they got there.

“Sander?” Robbe piped up, breaking Sander from his train of thought. “Talk to me.”

“I have thought about it,” Sander spoke slowly. “But I don’t know.” 

Sander saw a flash of disappointment in Robbe’s eyes. Sander wanted to give him the world, but this wasn’t it. Even if Robbe thought it was.

“Oh,” Robbe didn’t break eye contact. “Why?”

Robbe always surprised him. Sander almost wished he’d go about this kicking and screaming, demanding and doubting Sander’s every intention. This… patience, this openness made it so much harder to deny, to remember why he’d even try to in the first place. There was no anger or raised voice though, just a slight flash of confusion.

“Robbe you’re so… alive,” Sander responded, sitting up a bit. “You deserve to live a life and not be... stuck.”

“That’s how you feel?” Robbe asked softly. “Stuck? But what if I was here forever, with you? Would that change anything?” Robbe was very quick to respond, clearly having made up his own mind already.

Sander just looked at him for a moment, hesitant. He knew his answer would change things, he really did. But that didn’t change the fact that Robbe, the one with so much vitality and promise and so much left to accomplish, deserved to finish out his human life like the rest of the clan no longer could. Sander didn’t think he’d be able to stomach ripping that away from him. And Sander couldn’t stand this discussion either, couldn’t stand the thought of Robbe being upset with him or confused. He didn’t know how to tell him no without hurting him.

“You know I love you,” Sander whispered, reaching forward to cup Robbe’s cheek. “With everything I am, right?”

Robbe leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut a bit. Sander knew he was sleepy from the ride and fully internalizing this past week, and his thumb traced over the dark circles under his eyes. 

“I do.”

“Can we just leave it at that?” Sander asked. “For now? Please?”

Robbe’s eyes scanned over Sander’s face, deep in thought. Sander knew Robbe would let it go, for now, before he even said the words.

“Of course.”

Because Robbe was so patient with him, so understanding. But even as they settled back into a comfortable silence and Sander turned the engine back on, he knew this wasn’t the end of the discussion, he only knew that Robbe was letting it go for the sake of the desperate look in Sander’s eyes. Sander knew it would come up again, he only hoped that Robbe would be willing to give into his side.

\---

Robbe was certainly not going to let this go. He had absolutely no intention of it.

He _had_ seen the desperate look in Sander’s eyes and chosen to drop it. Oh, he had. For now. Before next time, because there would definitely be a next time, Robbe needed to prepare. He hadn’t planned on Sander’s hesitation, and before he even dared to bring it up again, he needed to get his facts straight.

For now, however, he had bigger problems.

“Milan, I said stop.”

“Just one more bite, please, Zoe-”

“Fine! But he needs room!”

Milan held the spatula in front of Robbe’s mouth and Robbe balanced it so that the hot beef crumble didn’t fall into his lap. He was sitting on the island in Milan’s- or, the clan’s mansion as Milan used him as a test dummy for some of the recipes he had seen on cooking Youtube channels. Zoe, too, had a few things she wanted to try out. It had seemed bizarre to Robbe at first that vampires liked to cook, but he supposed the clan was bizarre in itself. 

Robbe nodded as he swallowed the meat. “Good, it’s good.”

“Okay, you need to give me something other than ‘good,’ Robbe. I’m going insane.” Milan went to grab another spoonful from the pan, and Zoe whacked his arm.

“No no no, my turn,” She handed Robbe one of the cookies that had just come out of the oven. It was still warm and gooey. Robbe took a bite and nodded as it melted into his mouth.

“Good-” He began.

“Oh my god,” Zoe shook her head and covered her face with her hands. “Sander! Something is wrong with your boyfriend!”

Sander appeared in the kitchen in a second’s time, eyes darting around the room. Robbe shrugged as Sander realized there was no immediate danger and hopped up beside him on the island, rubbing Robbe’s back.

“What are you doing to him?” Sander asked, eyeing the food.

“He knows one word,” Milan turned the stove off and started swiftly compiling the food into a container. “I expected better.”

Robbe recoiled. “Hey-”

“They’re just jealous of your taste buds,” Sander smirked, pulling the hood on his black hoodie up over his head. “You can use that as a crutch.”

“For?” Robbe asked, watching as Zoe and Milan leaned against the counter in front of them looking thoroughly displeased.

“Anything,” Sander’s eyes sparkled. “It’s leverage.”

“Oh, fuck off-” Zoe began saying when the front door swung open.

It had been a few weeks since Christmas break and Robbe and Sander had decided to visit the clan Saturday night to say hello. Yasmina was doing homework somewhere upstairs and Noor and Lola had been out of the house up until now as they came barging through the door. Robbe took a quick glance at the time on the stove to see that it was 2am. He frowned as he looked back at Noor and Lola who were stumbling and giggling, holding onto each other's hands and stopping only when they saw everyone staring at them through the kitchen.

Milan straightened up. “Where the hell were you?”

Noor burst out laughing again. “Some hot blonde’s.”

Lola nudged her in the side, obviously much more sober than Noor. 

Noor let go of Lola’s hand to dash swiftly into the room and grab one of the cookies, taking a bite. “Ah, amazing.” Robbe could smell the alcohol and smoke on her from a few steps away. Her hair was sticking up all over the place and her mascara was smeared under her eyes. 

“Haha,” Zoe mocked. “Hilarious.”

Noor winked. “Want to hear about it?”

“Hear about-” Robbe started to ask.

“The blonde.” Noor began.

“No.” Zoe replied.

“Not a chance.” Sander replied at the same time.

“Yes!” Milan exclaimed.

“No no no,” Zoe covered her ears and left the kitchen. “Goodbye.”

“Robbe?” Noor asked as Lola came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her front, kissing her cheek. “Campfire stories part thirty five? Featuring how good she was at-”

“I’m good,” Robbe cut her off, a playful grimace on his face.

“We should probably get going anyway,” Sander hopped off the island. “Gotta get the human to bed.”

“I’ll kill you,” Robbe replied as Sander grabbed his hand and pulled him off as well. “Very slowly.”

Sander chuckled and pulled him in by the collar for a quick peck as they followed the others out of the kitchen. Noor hopped up on Lola’s back and let out a drunken squeal, yelling at Milan to come for storytime. Milan looked excited, but quickly turned on his heel to give Robbe and Sander a parting glance.

“Remember,” Milan pointed at them. “We’re going back to the 20s next weekend.”

“Ah,” Sander said as he grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack and put it around Robbe’s back. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Robbe looked at Sander, then back at Milan. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll explain on the way home, come.” Sander said with a twinkle in his eye. “Bye Milan.”

“Bye!” Milan yelled as he dashed after Lola and Noor.

\---

That’s how, the following weekend, Robbe found himself face to face with the very depths of Sander’s closet at the mansion.

“You’re kidding,” Robbe eyed the two sets of suspenders in Sander’s hands, Sander pouted for a second, as if he was worried Robbe didn’t like the outfit, so Robbe quickly followed it up with: “We’re going to match?”

Sander laughed, the voice echoing throughout the bedroom. “Mhm, you’ll see.”

Every year the bar that Noor worked at hosted a 1920s themed party. There were period specific drinks and music, but most importantly, era appropriate attire was required to even get in the door. This was the fun part for the clan , but it served as one big inside joke too as they all still had little mementos from their pasts, meaning, their costumes were authentic antiques.

The night of the party the mansion was practically vibrating with energy as they all bustled around the upper floor to get ready, and Robbe was jittery with excitement at seeing all of the clothes in person. 

Noor and Lola were in their famous flapper gear. Noor had on a short flowy black dress that stopped halfway down her thigh, thin straps, black arm covers that went to her elbow, black high heels and a black ruffled headwrap. Lola was wearing a dark red ruffled flapper dress that stopped at the beginning of her thighs, a white feathered boa, and a white flower in her hair. They were out of the house before the other’s, as Noor needed to be at the bar earlier than everyone else.

Once Robbe was clad in one of Sander’s white button ups, black jeans and, yes, suspenders, he wandered into the hallway to find Yasmina had gone for a similar approach, suspenders tucked into high waisted jeans and a bow tie over her chest. She smirked at him as she leaned against the wall. “Looking good.”

“You too,” He winked. “Where’s Z-” 

He was cut off because, speak of the devil, Zoe whipped around the corner and- wow. Zoe looked stunning in a short white dress with blue stripes, a long pearl necklace, white clothes stopping halfway up her lower arm, and a felt cloche ribbon hat. 

“Zip me up?” She asked Yasmina, turning around and pulling her hair to the side. Yasmina’s eyes twinkled as she zipped up Zoe’s dress and placed a quick kiss to her neck.

“Five more minutes!” Milan called from somewhere below. “I am not waiting, you will get left behind if you are not down here in five minutes!”

Alongside Robbe’s excitement was something else. It was all very surreal seeing them in their old clothes, but it wasn’t until Robbe felt cold hands wrap around his waist that it really hit him. Robbe turned around to see how Sander looked and- although he was dressed similar to Robbe, the only real difference being a paperboy cap on his head, it was this detail that hit Robbe smack dab in the face. Sander looked like the photograph from the art studio, and it was quite strange seeing him as he looked long ago. Even stranger was imagining the clan in another hundred years when fashion once again was drastically different. Robbe felt it again, that yearning to be a part of this. To be a late bloomer but blooming with them nonetheless. 

Robbe didn’t have much time to linger on this thought because Sander’s magnetic gaze on him more than usual tonight. They filed into one of Milan’s cars and took off for the bar, oldies music blasting to get the mood going. Once there, Milan parked the car on the side of the road and started shuffling out. Before Robbe could open the door to climb out and straighten himself up, Sander was gripping the back of his neck, fingers twisting into the hair there and pulling him for a fierce kiss. Robbe’s hands came up to grip Sander’s bicep, pressing in closer from shoulders to thighs. Sander pulled away far too quickly, his hat hanging off of his head and his eyes drooping with need.

“What was that for?” Robbe asked, half undone already.

“You look really fucking good like this,” Sander’s eyes roamed over the suspenders, and he playfully hooked his finger into one, pulling it back, letting it go, and grinning as it snapped back into place against Robbe’s shoulder.

Robbe straightened his hat on his head, fluffing out the blonde so it curled onto his forehead. “You have me like this all night. Do with me what you will.”

Sander’s eyes darkened, and he looked about ready to turn right around and ask if they should go back home, before Yasmina was knocking on the window behind Robbe, causing them both to jump. She just rolled her eyes and waved for them to come.

Once inside, an easy wave from Noor to the bouncer and they were through, they dispersed into a crowd dressed exactly like them, although a sly part of Robbe loved that he had something to hold over all these strangers’ heads. They had no way of being able to pinpoint how far from costumes his and the clan’s outfits were. He grinned, and then was swallowed whole. People in suspenders, black suits, funny mustaches and more modern-flapper costumes. There were boas and tight dresses and berets and paperboy caps and all kinds of intricate headwear. There were barrels spread out around the bar, a giant chalkboard with rules like _‘Respect the laws of the prohibition!’_ and _‘No bootlegging!’_ and _'Gamble freely!’_. The bar was dimly lit to make it appear more like a Speakeasy and Robbe had to admit, he felt like he had been transported to 1920. He may not have ever lived it, but the grins on Noor and Lola’s faces told him they felt the same way.

The group made their way over to the bar and started off with a round of shots. Sander kept his eyes on Robbe’s as they downed the glasses. The others began splitting off into pairs, leaving the two to themselves. Sander asked for two more shots, and a lovely lightness came over Robbe’s body. They stopped after that to make their way onto the dancefloor and Sander’s company was enough to give him the rush of ten shots. It was so easy for him, and he knew Sander felt the same, to have fun in a setting like this being only tipsy with Sander at his side. Because how could he need anything else when Sander was looking at him like that? His vibrant green eyes transmitting lust and want and frenzy. Robbe let himself be pulled into the middle of the crowd as they started moving together.

Robbe had never been much of a dancer, but with Sander swaying in front of him like that, it was hard to not be. They let themselves go in the midst of the drunken crowd and Robbe felt that overwhelming sense of freedom once more. It was silly and playful and downright funny until Sander pulled him in by the waist and weaved his hands through the hair at the nape of Robbe’s neck, tugging gently but with intent. A rush of heat below his navel followed by a tense swallow, and Sander leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You like that?”

Sander nipped, and Robbe thought about his fangs, hidden from the world, a secret only for him. He nodded so that their cheeks touched, and Sander continued to whisper how good he looked like this, that he should wear suspenders more often, and he continued to pull Robbe’s hair in short little jerks until he was halfway undone in the middle of the crowd. Sander smirked and took Robbe’s tilt of the head, neck suddenly very exposed, as an invitation to kiss, so he did. New hickeys to cover the old ones, right over those pesky bite marks. Robbe shivered. 

When Sander took his paperboy cap off and placed it on Robbe’s head instead, Robbe reached up to ruffle his blonde hair. Sander looked just as undone as he felt, and Robbe, unable to take it anymore, grabbed onto Sander’s suspenders and pulled him out of the crowd.

Sander spun him around to push him against the wall on the outskirts of the dancefloor, hand roaming up his chest and then gripping his jaw. Robbe kissed back and wondered how the hell he was going to last even another hour tonight, so close but not close enough. They’d just gotten here, and he was ready to pull Sander all the way home. It was Robbe’s turn to thread his fingers into Sander’s hair, mainly to keep himself upright as Sander kissed him against the wall like it was their last day on earth, apocalypse ahead and nothing left to lose. Robbe let his elbows fall to Sander’s shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck as the kisses turned more delicate, and sweet, bruised lips on bruised lips, and it somehow turned Robbe on even more. Because Sander was his and he treated him so well, so gentle when he needed to be. Robbe felt himself smiling into it and Sander smiled right back, pulling away slightly, alcohol on his breath and eyes love drunk. 

“What?” He whispered against Robbe’s lips.

“Just you.”

“Just me?” Sander asked, bumping his nose into Robbe’s.

“Mhm,” Robbe smiled, eyes closed. “Just you.”

“Let’s get another drink?” Sander asked.

Robbe nodded as Sander tangled their fingers together, leading him back over to the bar where Milan and Yasmina were sitting. Sander pulled out one of the barstools for Robbe to sit on before hopping onto the one beside him, Yasmina to Robbe’s left and Milan on the other side of her. Sander was asking the bartender for two more beers on Robbe’s right. They were taking it easy tonight. Well, easy by their standards anyway. 

“Is that-” Yasmina squinted. “Britt?”

Robbe followed her line of version to find Britt, their biology TA, leaning against the other end of the bar and talking to Zoe. Robbe shrugged. “Guess so.”

Milan looked as well. “The blonde? She’s in my yoga class.”

Yasmina eyed him. “You do yoga now?”

“Bitch, I’ve always done yoga,” Milan took a sip of his rum and coke. “The chakras. They’re important.”

“I’m tempted to go ask her for hints about the exam,” Yasmina was back to looking at Britt. “I bet she’s drunk. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” Robbe answered. “It’s her fault for coming to a bar with her students.”

“Touche,” Yasmina slid off the stool. “Be right back.”

“Let me know what she says!” Robbe stage whispered, and Yasmina’s evil giggle died with her exit.

Robbe saw the bartender slide their drinks closer to them on the counter, so he blindly grabbed for his, eyes not leaving Sander’s as he lifted the beer to his lips and tongued at the rim. Sander’s focus went a bit glazed, but he winked anyway. They swiveled on their stools to face each other and their knees could touch from this angle, interlocked. When Sander took a large swig and then turned back to Robbe, his hand found Robbe’s thigh and gave it a broad stroke across his jeans.

“You guys are sickening,” Milan said from behind Robbe, but Robbe had gotten to know him well enough to know he said it with a content look on his face. There was no conviction in it as Milan slipped into the gyrating mass of bodies.

For a moment it felt as though time had passed for only them, but then Sander’s eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes froze on a point in Robbe’s lap. Robbe leaned his head down slightly to look at him. Sander unfroze, blinking up at Robbe and taking another sip of his drink.

“How do I look in this hat?” Robbe asked, pretending not to notice Sander’s spacey state.

Sander just shook his head. “Don’t get me started. We might not make it home.”

“I liked it better on you.”

“Mmm, too bad,” Sander teased. “I like this view.”

“We could have just worn two hats,” Robbe leaned his cheek on the palm of his hand. Sander gave him a look and then tossed back the rest of his drink.

“I only had one.” He responded as he slammed the glass down on the table.

“We could have bought another-” Robbe began.

Sander fake gasped. “And have one authentic 1920’s hat and one fake? Preposterous!”

Robbe laughed and Sander watched him with a twinkle in his eye. But then it happened again, Sander’s eyes seemed to freeze and glaze over. He bit the inside of his cheek, and when he looked up and surveyed the bar, it looked almost fake, like he was putting on a show. Sander shook out his own hair a little and smiled weakly. It was weird, but Robbe didn’t want him to feel more uncomfortable than he looked, so he reached over to bop him on the chin with a finger.

“You wanna go back on the dance floor?” Robbe asked, gripping Sander’s hand and resting it on his own knee.

Sander hesitated, took a deep breath, and then shook his head. “Not yet.”

A nod of understanding. “Okay.”

Sander didn’t seem to hear him though, gaze adrift somewhere off to the right of Robbe’s head. Sander’s eyebrows furrowing together in concern, and the hand that Robbe held between his was starting to shake, just a little bit. The fog in his eyes was back.

Robbe decided he couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Hey, you okay?”

Sander’s eyes darted around the room looking as if he was trying to be more alert, trying to wake himself from some sort of spell, but he wasn’t quite seeing what was in front of him. He was looker paler than he usually looked despite his eyes being green and fed. Robbe gripped his hand tighter and then let go. 

“Sander?” Robbe cupped Sander’s face in his hands, thumbing over his cheek bones as he looked up. “Hey, look at me.”

Sander finally did, but he was beginning to pant, mouth open like he couldn’t catch a breath through his nose. Robbe had never seen such a physically human reaction like that from him before, his heart rate picking up with concern. He knew he didn’t have the know-how about something like this as he whipped his head around to find someone, anyone from the clan. Luckily Yasmina immediately made eye contact from across the room where she was talking to Britt, her senses picking up on their distress. 

Robbe kept a firm hand on Sander’s chest while he waved her down. His expression must have been flooded with the panic he felt because she was darting over to him immediately.

“I’m not sure what’s happening,” Robbe told her. “He just started- I think we should get some air?”

Yasmina looked at Sander who’s eyes were still flickering around the room, hands shaking.

“That’s not good,” Yasmina frantically looked around the bar. “Fuck. I’m going to get Milan. Do not go outside without us. Okay? Robbe, do not leave.”

Robbe listened to her but he went back to cupping Sander’s face between his hands. Sander’s eyes found his again, looking as if Robbe’s face was the only thing keeping him above the surface of consciousness. Robbe just looked at him. “Can you hear me?”

Sander’s eyes were upset and hazy and the fear didn’t hide itself well among laboured breaths. But finally, he nodded with a choked swallow.

In under a minute, Yasmina was back with Milan who didn’t hesitate. He put an arm on Sander’s back as Yasmina grabbed Robbe’s hand, and they made their way through the crowded bar. Robbe led the way and he was not hesitating to roughly shove into people to get a better path to the door. In fact he was 99% sure he flipped someone off who told him to ‘watch it’ but his mind was running a million miles a minute, and it was all Sander Sander Sander, too preoccupied to care about how many people he pissed off.

They hurried out through the door as Milan led Sander over to an empty alley. Robbe was at his side in seconds with Yasmina flanking the other, Milan stood in front, gripping Sander’s shirt and pushing him back against the wall with gentle ease.

“Sander, listen, you need to tell me what you’re feeling.” Milan was saying.

Sander panted as his eyes squeezed shut and he slammed his head back against the wall. Milan gripped harder.

“Sander. C’mon.”

Sander’s eyes sprung back open. “I don’t- this isn’t right- something is wrong-”

Something in Robbe broke hearing Sander sound so upset and panicked. Robbe gripped his hand and tried to give him some sort of stability, comfort, anything.

“Milan, he’s been drugged,” Yasmina was taking the role of the calm one. “And I don’t think it’s a human drug.”

Sander was gripping Robbe’s hand, eyes flitting everywhere but not seeing. “Robbe… Robbe, where’s-…”

Robbe placed a hand on Sander’s cheek and turned his face to look at him. “I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” Sander asked. His eyelids were fighting to open with every blink.

“I am, I’m right here,” Robbe’s heart pounded.

“We have to get him home,” Milan pulled his car keys out of his pockets and gave them to Yasmina. “Get him to the car, I need to get the others. We might not be safe.”

Milan sprinted back towards the club.

Sander put one arm around Yasmina’s shoulder and the other around Robbe’s as they supported his weight and walked down the street. Robbe knew Yasmina had the strength to carry him on her own but they had to avoid looking too obvious. He also figured she knew Robbe would want to be close to him.

“Oh no,” A female voice said from the sidewalk. “Is he okay?”

Robbe’s eyes fluttered up to see Britt taking a smoke break. Yasmina offered a strained smile. “He’s just had a bit too much.” They didn’t stop to give her much more than that.

“Do you need any help?” She asked, blowing smoke out of her mouth.

Robbe shook his head, trying to appear calmer than he felt as Yasmina unlocked the car. Britt stared after them with a worried expression as they helped Sander in the backseat. Yasmina told Robbe to make sure he stayed upright and Sander leaned his head against Robbe’s shoulder. Robbe felt panic like an oncoming explosion, starting small and then threatening to explode in his chest. He swallowed it down and focused on Sander’s face who had squeezed his eyes shut again and was burying his face into Robbe’s neck.

“We’re going home,” Robbe whispered into his ear. “It’s going to be fine.” He wished he could believe himself.

Milan was back and throwing himself into the front seat as Yasmina climbed into the passenger seat. They didn’t waste a single second before peeling out of the parking lot, leaving their TA and a couple bystanders staring in their wake.

“The others are meeting us there,” Milan was biting his lip and looking in the rearview mirror. Robbe stroked Sander’s hand still clenched in his.

“What’s happening?” Robbe asked. “What was he given if it wasn’t a ‘human drug’?”

“I don’t know,” Yasmina had her whole body turned to keep an eye on Sander. “I mean, I have an idea. But it’s not-” She cut herself off as worry started to bleed into her face. Milan sped up, gas pedal almost at the floor now.

By the time they reached the house Sander was a heavy weight on his shoulder, and he was shivering. As soon as Milan was parked, he and Yasmina were racing to open the door and get Sander into the arms of Milan. They quickly disappeared, and panic wretched Robbe as soon as Sander was out of sight. He had to sprint after them, through the front door and up the stairs to find them laying Sander down on the bed in the otherwise empty room. It was the same room where Robbe and Sander had had their first conversation. Robbe sat down on the bed beside him as Milan gathered supplies and Yasmina rushed back in with an armful of books. She threw one open onto the bottom of the bed beside Sander’s feet and began shuffling through, her bun having come undone, her curls hung over her forehead. Robbe had no clue what she was onto. 

Robbe leaned over Sander and started stroking his hair out of his face, feeling completely and utterly helpless. He was a prisoner to his humanity and unable to do a damn thing to help. Sander’s eyes found his just as a pained noise escaped his mouth.

“Fuck,” Sander managed to grit out. “I don’t feel good.”

“It’s okay,” Robbe tried to soothe. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Milan returned to the side of the bed and dropped his bag of supplies beside the pillows. He took out a thermometer and gently placed it under Sander’s tongue.

“What are you doing?” Robbe asked, unsure how that would work on vampires. Biology may be his strong suit, but vampires were a whole other area of study.

“If his temperature is decreasing then it will eliminate some of the other options,” Yasmina muttered from the bottom of the bed. “Although, I’m afraid of it being...”

“Yasmina just say it!” Robbe was impatient, this being the second time she trailed off.

Yasmina was concentrating hard on a section of the page. Robbe waited. He grabbed Sander’s hand in his and Sander started weakly squeezing.

“Juniper,” Yasmina finally said. “That’s my worry.”

Robbe didn’t miss Milan’s slight gasp and widening eyes. The thermometer beeped and Milan took it out of Sander’s mouth. He frowned as Yasmina grabbed it out of his hands to inspect it. She looked up at Milan, and the fear hadn’t drained from her eyes like Robbe hoped it would.

“Juniper... what’s juniper?” Robbe asked, the panic rising.

“It’s not vampire friendly,” Milan said, eyes on Sander. “It can make us really sick, but the right amount can-”

Yasmina was back at the book.

“Can what? Kill you?!” This was almost a shout, and while he knew they were immersed in examining Sander’s condition, he hated how he felt like so much of an outsider. It was a sharp contrast to the previous and welcoming weeks, and along with the dread sitting heavy in his stomach, he soured.

“Robbe, hey,” Milan was beside him in seconds, now holding Robbe’s face in his hands. “It can be deadly, okay? It can be. But only an extreme amount. I highly doubt anyone was able to get much into his glass without suspicion. In the meantime, we have to be calm.”

“Is there anything that can be done? What do we do?”

“We can’t do anything,” Yasmina stood up, crossing her arms and looking at Sander. “We can only wait.”

Robbe was about to yell again when Noor, Lola, and Zoe busted through the door, all still in their costumes, varying levels of confusion and worry on their faces. 

“What the hell happened?” Noor asked, standing at the edge of the bed. “I heard juniper.”

“We think,” Milan said, letting his hands drop from Robbe’s face and moving to stand with the others. 

“It’s the most likely.” Yasmina said as Zoe looped her hand into hers. “The first twelve hours are crucial. If he’s still alive after that then he should be in the clear.”

Sander was holding Robbe’s hand in a death grip and Robbe went back to running a hand through his blonde hair. Sander’s face was scrunched in pain and moving his head back and forth.

“Alive?” Lola asked. “He could die- I mean- really die?”

Robbe closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on Sander’s chest, trying to stifle the incoming panic attack. He couldn’t do that. That was the last thing Sander needed.

“It’s unlikely,” Yasmina said, sitting at the bottom of the bed. “But I’m not leaving this room until the twelve hours are up.”

“Me neither,” Zoe said, her eyes finding Robbe’s.

“Okay,” Milan hugged himself. “I think that goes for all of us. I’m going to- I’m going to grab some… grab some blankets and… coffee…”

Milan’s face betrayed the way he tried to sound normal. It was something Robbe had yet to see from him, the unshakable suddenly shaken. He hurried out of the room, and Noor’s eyes followed. She gave Lola a weak smile. “I’m going to make sure Milan’s okay.”

Zoe brought Robbe some spare clothes to change into, a pair of Sander’s grey sweatpants and a black Bowie shirt. Robbe changed as swiftly as possible and then he was back by Sander’s side. Milan and Robbe helped get Sander stripped down to his underwear and under the covers. Sander’s body was getting colder by the minute. Despite knowing it wouldn’t do much, he gently sat Sander up and pulled his own discarded hoodie over Sander’s head. If his scent did anything for Sander like Sander’s had done for him then he hoped it could be used for some semblance of comfort. It was all he had to give. He then brought the blanket up to Sander’s neck. 

It wasn’t talked about, but like so many other unspoken agreements within the clan, the others filed inside with two couches from the other bedrooms and a comfy armchair for Milan which they pushed up against the windows. Zoe and Yasmina on one couch and Noor and Lola on the other. Robbe knew they wouldn’t be sleeping and quite frankly neither would he.

Robbe slipped under the covers while the others got settled, and Sander nuzzled weakly into Robbe’s chest, ear pressed directly above his heart. He kept his deathgrip on Robbe’s hand and he let himself breathe out pained little gasps and groans, ones that had Robbe’s composure slipping to the depths of the ocean. He was helpless. The others were very good at sitting still and waiting, occasional light conversation being made but nothing that had anyone coming close to smiling. Milan kept biting his lip and he looked as close to crying as Robbe had ever seen him. Yasmina looked determined, as if she was afraid of blinking and missing something, sitting on the edge of her seat and leaning her elbows on her thighs. Lola was stone faced as she tapped her foot against the ground and Noor kept covering her face with her hands. Zoe reached over to squeeze Milan’s knee.

Robbe scrunched his face together as Sander let out another groan and he buried his face in Sander’s hair. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

“Milan,” Lola spoke up, voice barely above a whisper. “If they put juniper in his drink then…”

“I can’t focus on that right now,” Milan responded. “One thing at a time.”

Zoe looked at Lola. “Someone knows about us.”

“That’s the only logical explanation, right? Who just goes around putting juniper in people’s drinks?” Lola held her arms close to her chest. 

“Fuck, just when I was getting to like this place.” Noor sighed.

Robbe agreed with Milan. He couldn’t focus on that right now. It was almost the end of the semester, exams were just around the corner, and now the clan might have to leave town. Robbe had so many questions, his mind flashing back to the stories about vampire hunters and how Noor had said they were hardly a thing anymore. He couldn’t imagine there being an underground society of hunters underground in a place like Antwerp. It didn’t seem logical. And yet- a few months ago vampires in Antwerp didn’t seem logical. He supposed he had to change his view on logic.

Again, he had one thought in mind right now. Get through the next twelve hours. Try not to break down.

The room was dead quiet when Sander started convulsing. Everyone was standing up immediately, and Milan and Yasmina were on either side of the bed in a millisecond. Robbe hovered over him as his whole body shook and as he gripped the sheets. He turned his head into Robbe’s lap. 

“What’s happening?!” Robbe asked as he held Sander’s head gently between his fingers.

“He’s convulsing,” Yasmina said calmly, but her eyes betrayed her. “It’s normal.”

“That’s normal?” Noor asked from the back of the room. Robbe wasn’t even looking at any of them.

“Give him a second.”

Sander gasped deeply and sputtered, and Robbe moved him so that he was laying on his back to get more air. Robbe gripped his shoulder as Sander felt around for Robbe’s hand again. Robbe held it tight there despite the strength threatening to break his fingers. He knew he would have bruised hands tomorrow but couldn’t bring himself to care..

“It hurts…” Sander whimpered.

All of a sudden, Robbe’s eyes were pooled with tears. This had never been something he considered, the idea that Sander might be in so much physical pain, might die, and it knocked the wind out of him. Vampires weren’t invincible, but… what if someone had put too much of the drug in his drink? What if these were the last couple of hours he had with Sander? Robbe’s mind was flashing back to the day he got the call that his mom had died. It had been a regular day like any other. He had woken up and done his homework, had hung out with Jens and scrolled through Instagram. Loss doesn’t wait for you to be ready. Death doesn’t have a date on the calendar.

A few hours ago Sander was kissing him up against the wall and gripping his suspenders. Now he was gripping Robbe’s hand for dear life. In a few hours the grip could slacken. In a few hours Sander could be-

Robbe must have let out a similar pained noise because suddenly Lola was at his back and seizing his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut in panic and leaned forward to bury his face in Sander’s chest. Lola wasn’t having it. She held his neck harder and pulled him up, aggressively turning him around and clutching his shoulders. Sander didn’t let him let go of his hand though.

Lola leaned down to be level with his face. “Eight more hours.”

Robbe winced, trying to fathom how it would feel to exist in limbo like this for eight more fucking hours. He took in her expression of determination and willed himself to look even half as composed.

“Okay? We take this minute by minute.”

“I can’t lose him-” Robbe shook his head. “I can’t-”

“Eight, Robbe. Almost at seven.”

She let go of him and took a step back. 

He wasn’t sure why, but her cool demeanour and strength seemed to seep into him. He admired Lola’s methods and if he wasn’t in such a fucked up headspace he may have thanked her, but instead he just turned around and pulled Sander into his lap again, the convulsions lessening. Sander went back to being eerily still, his grip the only thing keeping Robbe anchored. 

Sander convulsed again at around six hours, tremors waking Robbe from where he’d dozed against the headboard. 

At four he buried his face into Robbe’s neck and clung onto his chest.

The entire room was on the edge of their seats at two.

And finally, when the twelve hours were up, no one dared to move. Quite literally, too, because they continued to wait an hour or so more. It was Yasmina who finally stood up and came to sit on the edge of the bed and feel his forehead. He had one arm swung over Robbe’s stomach and his cheek on his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he wasn’t asleep.

She let out a long exhale. “I think he’ll be okay.”

Robbe looked at her with tired eyes. “What now?” He trusted Yasmina with his life.

She kept the back of her hand on Sander’s cheek. “He’s going to be sick for a few days, but he’s out of the woods.” She smiled weakly at him.

Robbe wished he could feel more relieved. He couldn’t shake the worry until he and Sander were back in their apartment and Sander was watering his plants, and drinking his coffee with his morning newspaper while Robbe fiddled with the piano. He couldn’t shake the worry until Sander looked less like an actual corpse, like he wasn't in pain.

Yasmina gently rubbed her hand up and down Robbe’s arm. “You should get some rest.”

Robbe was exhausted, having now been awake for over twenty four hours. His eyelids were like magnets and his entire face felt droopy, but his brain was running on adrenaline. And not the kind that he liked or wanted. In fact, he would be fine never feeling adrenaline again if it meant avoiding the terror of the past twelve hours. 

The others started filing out after that, giving the two boys on the bed weak smiles and muttering about giving them some space. Yasmina promised to keep checking in and made him promise right back to shout if he needed anything. 

He squeezed Sander tighter to his chest and buried his face in his hair.

He didn’t know how much time passed, only that every time his eyes threatened to shut they were springing open again with residual panic. Sander was too still, and his face looked anything but peaceful. 

Sander tensed up and pressed his face harder into Robbe’s chest. He let out a pained groan before abruptly sitting up, his breathing picking up. “I feel like- like I’m gonna be sick.”

Robbe rubbed his back as Sander began dry heaving, obviously nothing coming out but it was the noises he was making on top of the look of pain on his face. Sander was gripping the sheets in front of him and Robbe ran his fingers through his hair.

“Breathe with me,” Robbe said from beside him, moving so that he was in Sander’s line of vision. “Come on, in through your nose out through your mouth.”

He squeezed Sander’s hand and counted out loud as Sander tried to breathe. Sander followed Robbe’s example until he was falling forward into Robbe’s chest and moaning. Robbe hushed him and moved them to lay back down against the pillows.

“What can I do?” Robbe asked. Logically, he knew that Yasmina was right and he was out of the woods, but it didn’t soothe the ache of seeing Sander like this.

Sander’s eyes fluttered up to meet Robbe’s before he was squeezing them shut again curling back into Robbe. Sander started shivering. Robbe just stroked his thumb over the back of his freezing cold neck and tried to transmit any sort of comforting energy he could with his touch.

“It’s okay,” Sander said through clenched teeth. “Don’t worry.” He sharply inhaled and squeezed Robbe’s shirt into his fist. Robbe put his hand over his fist and squeezed back.

“Hey,” Robbe heard himself speak, but he was feeling himself disappear to somewhere else, another time but the same place. “Remember when you brought me up to this room? The night we met?”

Sander nodded into Robbe’s chest.

“I thought it was very strange that there was only a bed in this room.” Robbe continued. “I mean, I thought a lot of things were strange. Milan, this house, you. And then you told me that I’m small and fragile, out on the balcony.”

Sander seemed to go a little boneless as he listened. He opened his eyes and turned his head so he could keep sneaking peeks at Robbe’s face as he spoke. At that last sentence he mustered up the strength to reply. “You’re not fragile.”

Robbe smiled weakly at him. “In comparison to you, maybe.”

“Physically,” Sander whispered. “Maybe.”

Robbe understood what he was getting at. He continued to whisper into the quiet room and Sander listened, occasionally letting a ghost of a smile appear on his face, or replying with a voice that was barely there. Robbe’s eyes closed.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out, only that when he reopened his eyes it was with a jump. Sander had his hand around Robbe’s lower arm and when he felt Robbe move he gripped his arm tighter to tell him that it was okay, he was okay. Robbe let out a relieved exhale, and his tired eyes wandered up to see Lola.

She was sitting on the armchair up against the window with her sketchbook in her lap. She was hunched over the supplies in her lap where she sat cross legged, hair falling around her face and shrouding most of her expression in darkness. What Robbe could see looked a lot like Sander’s face as he worked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, mouth crooked, nose crinkled. When she caught Robbe staring, she looked up at him. 

“I brought you some food,” She nodded to the sandwich on the table beside the bed. Eating was the last thing Robbe felt like doing, but he was also beginning to feel rather nauseous, so he started maneuvering his arm over to the table and Sander shuffled off of his chest. He rested his head sideways on the pillow and kept one arm swung over Robbe’s leg as Robbe sat up against the headboard and grabbed the sandwich.

Sander looked a bit more at ease, but something about him was still very still and cold. He opened his eyes halfway to look at Lola across the room and then up at Robbe.

Robbe took a bite of the sandwich, and Lola went back to scratching at the paper. It was the only sound in the room for a minute. “What are you drawing?”

“You.” She answered simply and without shyness. “I like to draw people in crisis.”

The corners of Robbe’s lips perked up. “Ah.”

“I taught her that,” Sander spoke up, voice just above a whisper. 

Lola rolled her eyes. “Only because I was in crisis. So technically I was your muse.”

Sander was too tired to banter back. 

“I brought you another present,” Lola smirked, eyes roaming to the side of the bed. Robbe peaked his head over the side to see his backpack rested there. “Homework.”

Robbe chuckled as he leaned over to unzip it and take out his laptop and his biology textbook. Sander shuffled beside him. “You just made his day.”

Robbe hadn’t been too concerned with homework considering his boyfriend had been on the verge of literal death, of course he wasn’t thinking about- but as he settled back into his human life, feet firmly planted in reality, the truth was that exams were only a couple of weeks away. Sometimes Robbe hated how important school felt to him, but he really could not afford to be behind. He reached a hand over to pet at Sander’s hair as he opened his laptop and got to work.

They were left alone most of the day, the occasional head popping in to check that everything was alright. During this time, Robbe got a few assignments out of the way that day, and it was only when the sun started setting that he had a thought. He looked down at Sander who had been quietly watching him work.

“What was that math assignment you were ranting about?”

Sander closed his eyes and shook his head. “No.”

“C’mon,” Robbe smirked. “I’m having the time of my life over here.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“You know I’m not.”

“Nerd.”

“The math assignment?”

Sander let him do a few of his assignments, and Robbe would have done his visual arts homework had he any artistic ability at all. Which he didn’t. When Robbe started to read out loud, just to give him something to listen to and occupy his mind, Sander pressed a gentle cheek to his shoulder. He was out like a light by around eleven, and Robbe only let himself worry for a moment before settling his gaze on the rise and fall of Sander’s chest. As long as he was breathing, as long as he was here. He looked somewhat peaceful, still hurting but sound asleep for right now. 

Robbe closed his laptop and stretched his neck. Lola wandered into the room again with a cup of tea and handed it to Robbe. He thanked her as she went to sit on her arm chair in the corner again, her sketchbook under her arm. Robbe had an idea.

“Are there… some of Sander’s art assignments that you could help me with-”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all day?” Lola didn’t look up from her sketchbook.

Robbe’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you.”

Lola chuckled. “I’ve gotten to know his style pretty well. I think I can manage.”

This was probably the thing that Robbe loved most about the clan, their undying need to help each other in any way they could. It was almost always unspoken, as if they were connected by instinct and understanding at their core. Their experiences, both together and apart, and everything they'd come to know about each other shaped their interactions, their understanding, their vulnerability. They were bonded by circumstance and cultivated love from it. Robbe was in this, too, now. He felt that in him too. Sander had been his catalyst, the flames in his chest unable to be doused by Robbe's internal floods of grief and nostalgia. The sense of belonging only kindling, stoked by every truth Sander let him in on. Christmas break had been a shattering point, one where Robbe realized that his attachment and understanding of these people had nowhere to go but up. And now, as he sat there and watched Lola quietly work in the corner, he could hear the sounds of the rest of them throughout the house. When they all worked together to make sure Sander was okay. It was there.

Robbe had a need to be a part of it like he had a need for water, and oxygen and Sander. He knew that if he asked Sander would tell him that he’s already a part of it, but that’s not entirely what Robbe meant. 

Lola promised to stay in the room and watch Sander while Robbe wandered out to stretch his legs, brush his teeth and roam the kitchen for snacks now that his appetite was coming back. 

He found Milan in the kitchen, dark circles under his eyes and looking a little worse for wear. Stress was obviously the culprit. His dirty blonde hair sat flat and unstyled on the top of his head. When he saw Robbe, he made an attempt to cover up his exhausted state with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Lola made you a sandwich but I,” He pointed to the pan where he was frying an egg, “Had something more exquisite in mind.”

Robbe smiled weakly as he hopped onto the island, appreciating Milan’s efforts to lighten the mood.

“You okay?” Robbe asked Milan who’s back was to him.

He let out a forced laugh as he poked at the egg with his spatula. “Are you?”

Robbe shrugged as Milan spiced the egg and swiftly put it onto the plate. He turned off the stove and took a second to lean his hands against the marble countertop and exhale. Robbe watched his back in silence. The house was the quietest he’d ever seen it; Robbe could hear crickets outside. Milan picked up the plate and turned around, placing it beside Robbe before sitting back against the counter with crossed arms.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted happiness for someone as much as I’ve wanted it for Sander.” Milan said sadly as he stared at a point in front of him, eyes glazed over. Robbe picked up the plate and started eating as he listened carefully.

“That sounds bad, because of course I want it for my entire family,” Milan smiled weakly. “But Sander… he and I have had a very… complicated relationship.”

Robbe nodded. He recalled hearing about the fights that Milan and Sander had when Sander was turned. “Because you turned him when he…”

“Yes,” Milan nodded. “For awhile I thought he would never forgive me. But I couldn’t find it in myself to feel bad about turning him. I saw him for what he is. Kind, a heart of gold, with demons far too heavy for any one person to carry alone.”

“There were a lot of fights where I was certain he would leave and never come back, but I always told him that no matter what, we were his family. He just couldn’t make sense of that. But looking back I see where his anger was coming from. He didn’t want to live and then suddenly he’s being told that he’s going to live forever? On top of what he was already dealing with in his head? You know, he told me that he would go to bars and drink until he couldn’t see straight, and there were a few people that he told… he told who he was. _What_ he was.”

Robbe’s fork froze in his hand at that. “He told people he was a vampire?” That was shocking to hear. He thought about when Sander had told him, how he had been so drunk he couldn’t see straight then either.

Milan nodded. “Most of them laughed it off and brought him home anyway. Or left him stranded at the bar. Until you.” 

Robbe looked down at his plate, his heart aching for past Sander. He thought about all of the times Sander had skipped around his identity with Robbe, had covered it up with past lives, the back and forth of it all. And yet, when he was indisposed, that’s when it finally came out. He imagined a disheveled Sander yearning to share his pain, his truth, with anyone, even someone he barely knew. Robbe felt an all consuming protectiveness, and thanked the stars that Sander wasn’t in that place anymore. He was here. And speaking of here-

“You’re going to have to leave Antwerp,” Robbe couldn’t help blurting out. “Aren’t you?”

Milan smiled sadly. “You say that like you wouldn't come with us.”

Robbe felt oddly embarrassed, like once again, he was intruding.

Milan hummed. “But yes, we are going to have to leave. I think we can wait until after exams though. That’ll give us time to get everything in order.”

Robbe spun his fork between his fingers. “Is it safe?”

“We can never be 100% certain,” Milan looked to be thinking out loud. “But I think, given the circumstances, as long as we are careful we should be fine.”

“I thought there weren’t many left?” Robbe asked, thinking back to the campfire. “Vampire hunters, I mean.”

“Exactly,” Milan responded. “There aren’t. And the ones that are left are sparse. And we’re a clan of six, so it’s very hard for them to touch us. I think we’ll be okay here for the next few weeks.”

Robbe nodded, once again feeling like there was nothing he could do. Only now there was an added-on twinge of selfish sadness that this place wouldn’t be their home much longer. It was all happening so quickly. 

“Hey,” Milan said. “One thing at a time, right?”

Robbe nodded. It was hard to focus on this when Sander wasn’t 100% healthy. That was step one.

“I’m going to make sure he’s okay,” Robbe added a smile that even he knew was unconvincing. “Thanks, Milan.”

Milan patted his shoulder before leaving Robbe alone, and with a couple of stabilizing breaths, Robbe went back upstairs.

Sander woke up a few hours later, once again, sleepy and confused. Although this time he was still too weak to do much more than open his eyes in alarm that he had fallen asleep and then snuggle back into Robbe’s chest. 

Robbe kissed his head. “Morning, sleepy.”

Sander groaned, but it was more tired than pained. And god, Robbe was glad to hear it. “Hi.”

“Feeling any better?”

“My stomach no longer feels like I‘ve been stabbed a million times, so that’s good,” Sander spoke into his chest. “I’m just tired.”

An idea sparked in Robbe’s brain, certain the thrill of it would never go away.

“Luckily, I have a fix for that.”

Sander shook his head. “No, you must be tired too.”

Robbe kissed the top of his head. “I want you to. You’ll feel better.”

Sander was too weak to move from Robbe’s chest so he brought his wrist up to Sander’s mouth and rested it beside him. Sander tensed up, his downturned eyes sparking with need. Robbe used his other hand to stroke Sander’s hair off of his forehead.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I love you.” Robbe said it as if it was the truest thing in the world. “I need it too.”

Robbe lifted his wrist up, hovering a breath away from Sander’s lips, and then Sander was biting. There was something inherently sexual about this act, despite the fact that Sander had been deathly ill hours before. Robbe tampered down the need in him, letting his head fall against the pillows and stifled a couples of moans. He felt connected. Needed. Warm. There was an odd replenishment in this for Robbe as well after the hell he had been through the past couple of days, and he arched up into Sander’s weight and let his fingers find purchase in Sander’s hair. 

When Sander was close to being finished Robbe felt his body relaxing back into the bed as the energy was drained from him. His eyes were fluttering shut and he let out a sleepy sigh as Sander lapped at his wrist and then placed a tender kiss on the skin he had been biting. Sander shuffled up to press kisses to Robbe’s chest, his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose. Robbe briefly opened his eyes to see Sander’s bright green eyes and lively expression, and the relief, although a positive emotion, became almost debilitating then. He’d been so scared, so helpless, that this new lack of energy had him feeling like he could sleep for a week straight.

Sander moved to take Robbe, the newly weakened one, into his arms now, and Robbe buried his face in Sander’s neck. Sander soothed the hair out of his face and kissed his forehead again, holding him close. “I’m okay,” Sander whispered. “You can rest now.”

“I was so scared.”

“I know,” Sander said gently. “I know.”

Then Robbe fell asleep, but not before gently holding the angel pendant between two fingers, silently thanking whoever was watching over them.

\---

But, as it went, the worry didn’t actually subside.

To a degree, it did. But it was a background thought, seated deeper in his chest, following him in everything he did and said. Robbe and Sander returned to Sander’s apartment a day later and while Robbe knew he should probably go back to the dorm and check up on Jens, let him know that Robbe hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet, he really couldn’t find it in himself to leave Sander’s side. Which was ridiculous, and he knew it, considering Sander was immortal. But again, only to a degree. Robbe realized he had been running on some kind of delusional, skewed feeling that he was more than he was. That, because he was running with vampires, a fraction of their power existed somewhere in him too. But it didn’t. He was just human. Just Robbe. Robbe who, if it came down to it again, could do absolutely nothing but sit there and watch if Sander was in trouble. 

For the first time, it felt like something he didn’t want to voice to Sander. Sander, who had practically begged Robbe to leave it the last time he brought it up. Sander, who might very well shoot him down again. He didn’t like feeling this way, considering Sander had become the person he told everything to. It was a bit off putting. 

So Robbe let it fester. 

Robbe returned to the dorm the following day to walk to class with Jens. Another fear nagged at him then as he realized how long it had been, one that insisted he’d neglected his best friend. As he walked into their dorm building he looked at their previous texts, which had all been a combination of “i’m at sander’s” and “ok” and “jana is staying over tonight” followed by more “ok”s.

Jens was already walking out of their dorm room and locking it when Robbe approached and Jens looked at him sidelong as his key froze in the door. He nodded to Robbe. 

“You need anything inside?” Jens did a quick scan of Robbe, taking in the sight of Sander’s dark grey Pink Floyd shirts, his brown jacket over top. 

Robbe shook his head, and Jens smirked as he joined in step beside Robbe. “Alright.”

Jens zipped his black winter jacket up and pulled his hood up over his head. Robbe stuffed his hands in his pockets as they stepped into the cold morning. The snow had finally come to a halt leaving behind heavy piles of white in its wake. Robbe buried his face into his scarf, his thin jacket not doing much to shield him against the cold. Sander kept nagging about buying him a new jacket, but Robbe simply shook his head every time. Although he knew Sander wouldn’t hesitate the next time he saw Robbe freezing half to death, but they enjoyed the banter, Robbe wanting to hold out and see how long it would take Sander to bite the bullet.

“Can I just say,” Jens said as they walked. “Sander is the best thing that happened to both of us.”

Robbe glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Both of us?”

Jens nodded. “Jana’s been at the dorm multiple times of week. Thank you, Robbe. Thank you, Sander.”

Robbe rolled his eyes, but he was happy for Jens. He also knew that this was Jens’ way of saying that he didn’t mind Robbe staying away, that he didn’t need to feel like he had to come back for him often. That was how Robbe and Jens had always communicated. They tried as best they could to avoid serious discussions, but the subtlety, the nuance, was always there. It was how Robbe knew Jens would always be there for him at the drop of a hat without ever having to speak a word of it, and Robbe would do the same for him.

After listening to Jens talk about Jana for the next twenty minutes, he waved goodbye and stepped into his Biology class. Yasmina was sitting at their usual spot already, nose stuck in a book, her hair tied back in a low ponytail and wearing what looked to be one of Zoe’s black blouses. Robbe smiled to himself at the fact they were both wearing clothes that weren’t theirs as he sat down beside her. 

Yasmina looked up as Robbe took off his jacket and hung it on the chair. “Britt does not look happy with me.” She said in lieu of a greeting.

Robbe took his beanie off and looked at her, pulling out his laptop. “She’s onto you.”

Yasmina leaned her elbows on the desk and frowned at him. “What?”

“Because you asked her for exam questions while she was drunk?”

Yasmina stared at him, as if she’d totally forgotten about the events of the last week. “Yeah, that was probably dumb.”

“Mmm,” Robbe smiled as he looked up at Britt who was sitting in the corner of the room at her usual spot, a small desk with a laptop in front of her. Robbe caught her eye, and she quickly looked back at the screen.

Their final exam was just days away, so Robbe avoided talking to Yasmina for most of the class in favor of paying attention. He wasn’t worried about Biology at all, more so his other classes, the ones he’d need to actually study for. Regardless, he was feeling confident. Robbe’s main talent was a way to still maintain above average grades despite finding out that vampires exist. He shifted in his seat as Professor Cook told them to quietly work on their own, and everyone immediately began talking.

Yasmina leaned back in her chair and hummed. “Milan wants to have an end-of-semester party at our place.”

The mention of ‘end-of-semester had Robbe’s brain going back to what Milan had said a few days ago about probably having to leave town. His stomach churned at the thought of it. While he knew that he would go with them (it was hardly a question), he was enjoying the life they had all built in Antwerp. The thought of leaving Sander’s apartment, the mansion, the college, and even Jens sent an unbearable wave of sadness through him.

Robbe nodded. “You mean a goodbye party.”

Yasmina crossed her arms and looked at him sympathetically. “You’ll get used to it. We can never stay somewhere too long.”

“But, you haven’t been in Antwerp for long?” Robbe recalled.

Yasmina shrugged. “Yeah, this is a lot sooner than anticipated. I had definitely planned to graduate here again.”

That nagging thought was back. Again, starting small but then stabbing his heart. Yasmina looked at him as if she could see the thought growing and growing and growing until it was too great to keep to himself.

Robbe cleared his throat and looked down at the desk. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about… about… the possibility of…” Robbe inwardly cursed himself for never being able to get words out in a timely manner.

Luckily, he had a literal genius sitting beside him.

“... of becoming like us?” Yasmina had a playful smile on her face.

Robbe nodded.

“Well,” Yasmina leaned her elbow on the back of the chair so that she was fully facing him. “I kind of just assumed that was happening. Eventually.”

Robbe perked up, copying her position. “Oh, really?”

Yasmina nodded. “But let me guess, Sander is a little… weird about it.”

“Absolutely.”

Yasmina nodded again, a knowing look in her eye. “Mm, well, I’m going home after class. Come with me.”

Robbe frowned. “Why?”

“You might as well get the other’s opinion,” Yasmina told him. “It’s your decision just as much as it’s his.”

Robbe felt a little weird about it. On one hand, he would be going behind Sander’s back. But he wouldn’t necessarily be lying, and it couldn’t be that big of a deal, right?. He would just be asking for the clan’s opinion. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, and he did genuinely want to know what they all thought. If he got an overwhelming ‘don’t do it,’ he would most definitely think twice about it. But if the answer was generally positive, he could use that the next time he talked to Sander. 

So, hesitantly, he nodded. It was worth a shot.

\---

Sander had gotten out of bed sometime around 4am with the itch to paint something, a regular occurrence these days. It always happened when things in his life were a little too loud and chaotic. Long ago, Sander discovered after years of going a bit wild that he yearned for peace, for early mornings watching the sun rise with coffee at his side. For long walks listening to the crunch of leaves and pavement underneath his feet. For the simple things: a schedule, a routine, the moon shining a glow on Robbe’s sleeping face beside him, safe and protected. His brain was too often like a shaking beat in the middle of a club. He needed the balance.

Robbe was still asleep. He had his final exam, Biology with Yasmina, early in the morning and then they were heading to Milan’s for the end-of-year party. It all felt bittersweet, because with the end of the school year brought change that Sander hadn’t anticipated happening so soon. Sander loved his apartment. It was covered in memories. It was covered in Robbe. Of course, Robbe wouldn’t be leaving him. But he knew Robbe felt a similar sense of sadness at the upcoming transition.

Sander hadn’t realized he was painting Robbe’s eyes again until he stepped back from the easel in his art studio. The sun was beginning to rise, covering the room in a warm glow. It was one of those painting sessions where his mind had been somewhere else entirely, hand moving on it’s own. It was messy, too, his fingers covered in heavenly browns and blacks.

He rubbed at his face, feeling some of the paint stick to his cheeks. It was decided. He needed coffee. He was shaking out his head of white hair, praying for a lack of paint there, when his phone buzzed in the back pocket of his jeans.

It was Zoe.

“Ah, wasn’t sure if you’d be up…” She started before he could say anything.

“Hey,” Sander answered, balancing his phone against his shoulder as he grabbed one of his vintage mugs. 

“Party tonight is at eight,” She went straight to business. “We invited… uh, a lot of people.”

Sander watched the coffee fall in a steady stream into the mug. “Got it.”

“You sound off,” Zoe noted. “Did Robbe talk to you?”

Sander frowned, not understanding what she meant. “No?”

“Oh shit-” Zoe began.

“Talk to me about what?” Sander asked, turning to lean against the counter.

“Really, it’s nothing-” Zoe tried to wave it off. She was using the same words Robbe had used when he tried to wave off the conversation about-

Oh.

“Zoe.” Sander deepened his tone, knowing she would cave.

She groaned. “He just came over the other day with Yasmina, after their bio class. He just had some questions about… about turning into one of us. That’s it.”

Sander exhaled, a brief flash of hurt hitting him square in the chest. “Okay. Thanks.”

He hung up.

Sander knew he could only be mad at himself. He had shut Robbe down the last time he had brought it up, and Robbe must have felt like he shouldn’t talk about it again. But there was an overwhelming combination of frustration and sadness he just could not shake. Logically, he knew he had to face this discussion at some point, but the fear in his heart was making him put it off as long as possible. There was just too much right now. Everything was too much, and this was the thing that had the power to shatter his demeanour into a million pieces. 

On top of having to leave Antwerp, the beginning of dragging Robbe into the hard parts about this life, final exams, and the worry that someone might be after his family again, Sander felt a familiar feeling creeping into his brain. He wanted to crawl back into bed with Robbe and sleep for a week, a month, maybe forever, but for once, he didn’t think he could look at Robbe right now and let this go.

He sat. He thought. He waited.

\---

Robbe woke up around seven with a groan. The thought of doing an exam in a few hours was making his brain want to combust, but it was his last one. He was so close to freedom he could taste it.

Sander wasn’t in bed. Not unusual, he thought. Robbe sat up and yawned, stumbling his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and fluff up his hair. His hair had gotten longer, curls a wild mess on his head. Sander had told him he liked it, seeing Robbe change over the past six months. It was interesting for Sander given his hair stayed the same.

As Robbe threw on a pair of jeans he noticed a flower drawn on his knee and smiled. It was a sign that Sander had gotten too restless in the night and decided to spend some time in his art studio. Robbe pulled on one of Sander’s plain grey t-shirts over his head, moving the clasp of his angel pendant to the back of his neck. Then he walked out into the living room.

Something was off, and Robbe knew the second he saw Sander. Sander was lingering in the kitchen, his abandoned coffee mug beside him on the counter, his eyes dark and heavy, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white where he was gripping the counter on either side of him. He gave Robbe one look and walked out of the kitchen and away. Robbe furrowed his brows as Sander walked straight out the balcony door without a word and propped his elbows on the ledge, dropping his head to frustratedly run his hands through his hair. 

Robbe squinted at him from inside and decided he wasn’t going to chase after Sander. Not like this, at least. Instead, he hopped up onto the dining table and sat back, leaning his hands on the table. If Sander wanted to use his words, he could. 

Sander stared ahead for many minutes, hair blowing lightly against the wind, his back muscles tense underneath his white graphic t-shirt, and Robbe watched. Robbe could only see the side of his face and his eyes were frozen on a spot in front of him as if he were deep in thought. Robbe tapped his fingers against the wood of the dining table, knowing that Sander could hear it. Sander’s face tensed up even more, but he just kept looking at the ledge. A brief moment of thought and then- he was turning around and walking back inside.

Sander slowly closed the balcony door and then walked to the piano bench and took a seat, back facing the piano. Robbe stared hard at his face, and Sander stared hard at the wall.

The silence was deafening, truly. Robbe felt the competitive side in him taking precedent as he kept his eyes on Sander and didn’t say a word. Sander was so good at being frozen.

Finally, “If anyone’s going to turn you, it’s going to be me.”

Robbe’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He guessed that Sander had caught wind that Robbe had talked to the clan about this, but not even an ounce of him could feel bad about it. He wanted Sander forever. Sander wanted him forever. Complications aside, what was so wrong?

“But it’s still a no.” Sander finished.

Robbe inhaled and exhaled deeply, the sound finally causing Sander to slowly look up at him.

“So that’s it then?” Robbe asked, the anger clawing its way up his throat. “You just get to say ‘no’ and shut me down?”

“What did you think would happen, Robbe?” Sander asked. Robbe had never heard his name sound angry coming out of Sander’s mouth, and it made him recoil a bit. “You would just become a vampire without me knowing?”

“I wasn’t going to have them just fucking change me,” Robbe fired back. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Okay,” Sander’s jaw clenched. “So, Milan says yes, and Noor, and Lola and Zoe and Yasmina and then what? You turn knowing I don’t want this?”

Robbe gripped the edge of the table underneath his legs. “But what about what I want? Does that mean nothing to you?”

Sander flinched. Robbe stood up off the dining table and crossed his arms as his own rage threatened to crash through the surface. Sander stood up as well and paced to the balcony door, his hands against the cool glass and his head falling forward.

“If you don’t think I’m thinking of you here then I don’t know what to say.” Sander’s voice was quiet but fueled with emotion.

“Because you want me to live a human life?” Robbe kept his arms crossed and started gripping his own shirt in his fists. “Because I’m so ‘alive’? Fragile and unable to protect-”

Sander turned around and tugged at his own hair. “Because there’s danger in my world too! You saw it! I’m putting you in danger by even knowing you! I’m-”

“Really?” Robbe raised his voice. “I thought we got past that months ago! Or what? You’re going to leave me behind? To protect me? You’re going to-”

Sander was in front of him in seconds, not touching but only an inch away. Robbe noticed he had brown paint smudges on his cheeks, and the sudden ache in him made Robbe want to drop the whole thing again. Like last time. But Sander was staring down at Robbe with hurt and angry eyes and Robbe couldn’t help the urge to prod at that. He had never seen Sander lose his control like this, but he wanted him to. He wanted him to stop burying whatever pained him, whatever kept him up at night, and let it out.

“I’m not,” Sander’s voice shook. “I can’t. And it kills me every day-”

“It kills you that you can’t leave me?” Robbe’s heart sank.

“No, that’s not what I-” Sander squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall. “I just mean… I need you to be… safe… and alive. I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything.”

Robbe gripped Sander’s shirt in his hands this time, and Sander opened his eyes at the contact. “And what about how I feel? I can’t imagine a life outside of the next hour with you… if something happened to you and I could have done something about it? I can’t just… wait around like some fucking helpless animal and wait for you to-”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Sander looked into his eyes. “Nothing.”

“How can you even say that after last week? You don’t know that!” Robbe let go of his shirt and took a step back, feeling too pent up for such proximity all of the sudden. “And what are you going to do? If I do make it to ninety five? And I die? You’re just going to live on?”

Sander weaved his blonde hair through his fingers, expression telling, as if he had thought about this many times before. “If you’ve lived a long and happy life then I’ll take that sacrifice.”

“God, Sander!” Robbe shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Think of yourself for once!”

“You’re saying that because that would mean me changing you!”

“So you really don’t want me in your life for long, huh?”

“Really, Robbe, you know it’s not like that-”

“It’s really fucking sounding like that.” Robbe momentarily hated himself for the way he wanted to give into the adrenaline, the way it screamed at him to keep going. To keep pushing. “You’re the only one standing in your own way.”

Sander had his hands clenched in fists at his side. “Why can’t you just open your eyes and see that I’m trying to protect you?”

“And who protects you?” Robbe drilled into him. He knew logically that the clan would protect him, but that wasn’t the point here. “You’re always putting yourself last. Always sacrificing yourself for other people. For once in your fucking life Sander, do this for yourself.”

Sander laughed but it was dark. Robbe didn’t flinch. “This is a rush for you, isn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robbe asked, teeth gritted.

Sander took a step forward. “Becoming a vampire would be the ultimate adrenaline chaser, wouldn’t it? It’d fulfill that need of your’s, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Robbe took a step forward as well. He felt he was getting to see a flash of the Sander who used to fight with Milan, who used to say anything he could to self sabotage and get a reaction. Robbe didn’t believe it for one second, but Robbe was no saint. “You think that’s going to make me stand down? Really?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!” Robbe shouted. “You are! Because you can’t seem to understand that I want to become a vampire for you. For us!”

“I can’t pull you into this, Robbe!” Sander yelled, his exterior crashing down as he, too, threw his hands into the air. “I can’t! I can’t take your humanity away from you, your life!”

“My life?!” That struck a chord that Robbe didn’t know existed. Suddenly a hundred repressed emotions were rising to the surface and spilling out of his mouth, uncontrollable. “My life is you now! I have… I have… nothing… not after she-” He squeezed his eyes shut and paced to the far back wall, away from Sander. “Not after she- I wouldn’t be leaving anything behind.”

Sander was suddenly behind him, setting a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, but he shoved it off and let the tears spill down his cheeks. He had never felt misunderstood by Sander before, and yet here he was. He didn’t understand how he couldn’t see that Robbe had been drowning every day before Sander, that he and the clan offered him something no one else ever had or even could. That his mom was the reason he used to smile and when she left, she took everything with her. Sander had been the saving grace and yet- now he couldn’t see that all Robbe wanted was to spend eternity with him, to be able to protect him. He couldn’t sit idly by and wait for something to happen to Sander. He couldn’t. It might break him.

Robbe turned around and leaned against the wall, his jaw clenched as he slammed his head back against it. Sander was a few steps in front of him, eyes softening, anger evaporating, leaving only residual sadness.

“You’re my home.” Robbe said it without looking up.

“I know.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just trying to… make you see…” Sander stared hard at him. “That… the thought of trapping you… in my world… it hurts me more than I can begin to describe.”

Robbe felt the anger evaporating from him as well, his fists slackening at his side. But his chest felt heavy with sadness, and grief. All he had known was loss. Loss that creeped around the corner in the form of a suicide note, or in the slamming of a front door when he was seven. In the fear when Sander squeezed his hand and writhed in pain, when he thought of dying of old age and leaving Sander behind. 

He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands so hard he felt blood. Sander’s eyes darted down and then immediately back up, concerned more than anything now.

“I’ve always been trapped,” Robbe whispered, and suddenly, he was moving. He grabbed his jacket from the dining table and opened the front door, pausing only once to glance sideways and see Sander frozen where he’d left him.

There was no slam of the door. No yelling, all words wrung out in the air between them. Robbe simply closed the door and headed off for the exam.

It was all he could do not to break.

\---

| 11:00am |

_earthlingoddity:_ I’m sorry, Robbe. I realize I have been more focused on getting my points across than listening to yours. I wasn’t thinking. I promise that we can sit down and have an actual talk about it. I retract my answer, haha. I’m not saying no. We will both come to a decision that we are happy with. I love you. You’re all that matters.

| 1:00pm |

_earthlingoddity:_ If you need space I understand.

| 3:00pm |

_earthlingoddity:_ I understand, but just a quick text to tell me you’re okay would make me feel a bit better. It’s okay if you’re not up for the party.

| 5:00pm |

_earthlingoddity:_ Robbe?

For hours, there was nothing. 

And when Yasmina called Sander once, he ignored it, figuring she was wondering why he wasn’t at the mansion yet. 

When Yasmina called him twice, he continued to ignore it, refusing to take his bad mood out on her.

But then the third voicemail:

_Yasmina Ait Omar:_ Sander please pick up this is urgent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BACK TO SUNDAY POSTING, WOOHOO
> 
> i don't really have much to say this time, only that... sorry for the cliffhanger. really, truly, from the bottom of my heart i'm sorry..... next chapter is going to be intense. see you next week lfjskdfjksf BUT! i'm on tumblr, so, if you want to come yell at me there/predict what you think is going to happen....... it would make my day. so much. ok. i think that's all????? 
> 
> i love emma. hi emma. thank you for editing once again, thank you for working your ass off these past few days so that we could be back to posting on sundays!!! queen. editing queen. life queen. i love u
> 
> TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bem672rSxhE
> 
> GIFSET: https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/619878235257389056/paint-me-in-trust-by-themoongirl-updates-every
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe
> 
> emma's tumblr:  
> lolahydri
> 
> eddi's tumblr:  
> sekoui


	5. no time to die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> \- torture 
> 
> \- intense fear and anxiety (sander's pov is basically one giant panic attack, SERIOUSLY be careful with his pov. there's a lot of spiralling)
> 
> \- in general, just be extra careful reading this, and mind the tags! if you're scared of being triggered at all, shoot me a message on tumblr and i will 100% give you all of the spoilers you need.

The Biology exam was easy, despite Robbe being in the worst mindset possible for it. The only flicker of a good mood was when he remembered he no longer had to study, but other than that, miserable. His words still floated heavy above his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had yelled, the last time he couldn’t decipher the difference between the two emotions. Anger and hurt. They were one in his brain as all of the other students seemed to be mocking him with their happy smiles and celebratory high fives. The clock struck noon. Yasmina nudged him, standing up and closing her bag. 

“You good, dude?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “I know you didn’t think that exam was hard.”

Robbe stood up as well, flinging his backpack over his shoulder and shaking his head. “Nope, let’s get out of here.”

Yasmina chose to ignore his answer with a shrug and a motion to follow her out the door. They were the last ones in the classroom except for their TA Britt who sat carefully shuffling through their assignments in the corner of the room. Yasmina gave her a weak, half smile as she waited for Robbe to get his act together, but then-

“Robbe,” Britt spoke up from behind him. “Can I see you for a second?”

Annoyance creeped at his spine. _Could this day get any worse?_ Yasmina paused, furrowing her eyebrows and gesturing that she’d wait, but Robbe waved her off. “I’ll see you later at the party.” 

He watched Yasmina go, inhaled sharply and attempted to look put together as he spun around. Britt perched at the top of her desk and gestured for Robbe to take a seat in front of her. Robbe had no intention of fucking up his academics this close to the finish line, despite crumbling internally.

She clasped her hands together in her lap. Her bright blue eyes were piercing as she looked down at him. “You’re good friends with Yasmina, correct?”

Robbe nodded, still confused. “Yeah, we did most of the group assignments together.”

“Mmm,” She hummed. “And outside of class? Do you talk?”

That caught him off guard. Not only had she seen them at the 1920s party, but he couldn’t come up with a logical explanation as to why she would care about this. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like she was inspecting every thought going through his brain. But then again, maybe he was just in a state. An annoyed one at that, and when he was like this, he didn’t like the way anyone looked at him. More specifically, when he was on bad terms with Sander. The thought made him fidget and look down at his fingers. Were her eyes sharper than before? Was he making this up? Still, something inside of him seemed to be screaming _lie._

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Your boyfriend is her brother, correct?”

Robbe’s eyes shot up, and he felt his heart leap to his throat. It was like she’d read his mind. She smiled though, nonchalant and a hint of something else. 

“She doesn’t have a brother.”

“Oh, but she does,” Britt cocked her head, eyes widening. “She does. Not by blood... no, that’s just what they yearn for.”

Robbe’s body reacted before his brain did (all the while his thoughts screamed, _what the fuck is she saying?_ ) staggering up and out of the chair just in time to be grabbed by a pair of cold hands, wrapping around his arm and the nape of his neck. He froze at the touch, but his mind kept going. _Run run run, you have to run._

And oh, he tried. He only caught glimpses of a man with dark hair in his efforts to break free from this almost-steel grip, but nothing worked. Physically, he was deemed useless once again, and adrenaline alone couldn’t save him now.

“Who-”

“Sorry Robbe, but you shouldn’t have chosen to run with vampires,” Britt sighed, uninterested when-

A sudden strike from behind had the world coming to a halt. One second he was standing, and then the next, his cheek was pressed against the cold floor. A distant ringing, a thumping that sounded like his heart beat in his skull, the urge to vomit. Alongside the ringing was a low groaning that he recognized as his own voice, thick with pain and confusion. The world tilted as someone turned him on his side, his mouth yanked open, a pill forced inside, a hand over his mouth to force him to swallow, and then-

Nothing. Just cold, empty darkness.

\---

| 5:00pm | 

Yasmina’s texts made Sander’s skin crawl the second he read them, and the feeling had yet to subside. He had been neglecting her calls, assuming she was just telling him details about the party, but now he worried there was something else. He swallowed it down, knowing himself all too well and the ways in which his brain could spiral. And yet, his hand was shaking as he lifted his phone to his ear. 

“Sander,” Yasmina sounded the same as she did the night that Sander got sick, calm but words laced with fear. “Robbe’s not with you?”

Sander froze. “No-”

“Fuck,” Yasmina swore. “Have you heard from him?”

“No,” Sander couldn’t seem to move. “Yasmina, what’s going on?”

“I think I figured something out,” Yasmina said. Sander could hear wind slapping against the speaker of the phone. “I’ll be there in thirty seconds.”

This wasn’t the beginning of a seed being planted in Sander’s brain. Fear was familiar. Fear was rooted deeply inside of him, and this seed was laced with the deepest of it. It sat unassuming in the back of Sander’s brain and was easily manipulated by even the vaguest of assumptions. The words ‘I think I figured something out’ had the power to make that seed grow, to twist through every dark thought and wrap tightly around them, squeezing until he could hardly breathe. 

The seed morphed into a ticking time bomb.

Sander was able to move again, his brain trying to beat the oncoming emotions circling his brain. He sped to the front door of his apartment and opened it. It may have been the longest thirty seconds of his existence.

Yasmina was racing inside mere moments later, her brown curls a mess on her head. Her eyes were black. Sander slammed the door as soon as she was through and clenched his hands into fists, trying to smother the bomb inside of him. The _tick tick tick_ threatened to drive him to insanity.

“Tell me. Now.” He was frozen again, waiting for her to say it.

Yasmina crossed her arms in front of him and began speaking fast. “I’ve been doing some research, ever since Christmas break. I just- I had this _feeling_ that I had to- because Robbe asked if vampire hunters were still common and I couldn’t help but wonder myself. I really didn’t think I would find much, until someone put juniper in your drink and I just felt it was too much of a coincidence.”

“Where’s Robbe?” Sander couldn’t care about any vampire hunter, any monster in this world until he knew Robbe was safe. It was all that mattered.

Yasmina’s eyes were far away as she continued. “So I started thinking, you know, that makes no sense. Lola said it herself, no one just puts juniper in people’s drinks. Moreover, they would have had to have been watching us, but again, we’re a clan of six. It's hard to touch us.”

“Where is he?” Sander’s voice was eerily quiet. He took a step closer, Yasmina’s words echoing in the room. He couldn’t internalize anything. 

“But then it occured to me that- they would have seen Robbe that night. They would have seen the two of you. And I think it’s- I think she-”

“Who is _she_?” Sander was inches away from Yasmina now, begging her with his eyes. 

“I think it’s Britt,” Yasmina swallowed. “Our biology TA. She was at the 1920s party. She knows Milan. She called Robbe back after class-”

“No.” Sander closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “No.”

“Sander,” Yasmina cupped his face. “We need to focus, okay?”

“Yasmina, if she’s-” Sander’s eyes sprung open. “If she fucking touches him-”

“We need to go,” Yasmina dropped her hands from his face and grabbed his hands. “Come on, we need to get the others and go looking for him. Make sure this is really as serious as it could be. That’s step one.”

Sander would look back and wonder how he was able to move that day, to get his body cooperating with his brain, but in the end, it was Yasmina’s grip pulling him out of the room, doing her best to centre him. The only thing he could do was hold on for dear life. 

The drive to the school was a blur. Yasmina drove for fear of Sander’s mindset. Sander was on the edge of the seat and gripping the door of the car so hard the plastic cup holder cracked beneath his fingers. He had never been one for violence. He preferred catharsis through his art, and before that, it was about burying his demons until he couldn’t feel a damn thing. But now, every emotion inside of him threatened to overflow. His breaths were ragged, his teeth clenched, and his phone clutched in his other hand. _Please, Robbe, just reply. Tell me your phone died. Or that you got caught up talking to Jens, or that you were skateboarding the anger away. Anything. Please don’t let this be happening._ The sun seemed to be mocking him as it retreated for the night, the darkening sky making everything feel worse. Scarier, even more hopeless, like time was closing in on them.

Yasmina called Milan using the bluetooth in the car, her shaking hand betraying her collected emotions. 

“Hey babies,” Milan said as he answered, voice far too cheery for this moment. “People are arriving-”

“Milan, we can’t find Robbe,” Yasmina interrupted him. “Forget the party. We need you.”

Milan sounded as if he was running to a quieter spot in the house. “Come again?”

Sander squeezed his eyes shut, impatience suffocating him, drowning him since the moment Robbe stopped answering. “Get the others, leave the party.”

Yasmina was turning into the campus parking lot, Sander recognized it as where they had Biology. 

“We’re at the school. Meet us here as soon as possible.”

Sander didn’t wait to hear Milan’s response as he stumbled out of the vehicle and to his feet. Luckily, the campus was empty, students having already started on their celebratory weekends. Sander felt a twinge of disgust that anything happy and positive could be happening at a time like this. He tried to breathe as he raced to their specific classroom, Yasmina following behind him. The last time he had been here he had been picking Robbe up from class, leaning against the wall and watching him walk out of the room, seemingly blending in with the rest of the students, but not to Sander. The hallway had looked a brilliant yellow that day. But not now. Now it was almost unrecognizable, darker, unwelcoming

Sander tried for the door handle, but when that didn’t pan out, he kicked the door in with a freneticism that had Yasmina gasping from behind him. His eyes did a quick sweep of the room, looking for any signs of Robbe. Until-

“His bag,” Sander’s voice sounded foggy in his brain, darting to the corner but hesitant to touch it. He reached out a finger, running it over the strap Robbe would’ve been holding. What was he searching for? Blood? A misunderstanding? Please, let this be a misunderstanding, something to laugh about later. Anything but- but _this._

“That’s Britt’s desk,” Yasmina’s words were the final nail in the coffin. “Fuck.”

Robbe’s bag sat neglected on her desk, no signs of a struggle. Yasmina searched the rest of the room and came up short. And Sander felt himself breaking, still grasping at the strap of the bag like it was some lifeline. But it wasn’t, his real lifeline wasn’t here, and Sander didn’t know how to get to him.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Sander covered his face and kneeled over. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. Everything was disappearing as Robbe’s face materialized right in front of him. He was spiraling. This was it.

“You can’t do this,” Yasmina was grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him up. “Robbe needs you. Come on.”

Yasmina guided him out of the room once again, and he tried to obey. Everything was blurry around him, he couldn’t make sense of his surroundings, and his brain was back to replaying Robbe’s hurt expression the last time he left his apartment. What if that was that last-

Fuck.

Yasmina yanked him outside and Milan was there, along with Zoe, Noor and Lola following behind. They were all dressed for a party wearing lipstick and earrings. 

“What the hell happened?” Lola was immediately in front of him, clutching his upper arms and trying to stop him from darting off.

Sander shrugged her off, and she let him once she got a good look at his livid eyes. 

“I’m going to check the skate park.”

“Sander, wait!”

But he didn’t look back, he didn’t spare them another glance as he ran off. He was certain the only reason there wasn’t more protest was because Yasmina stopped them all with a serious tone, “Let him go.”

They checked the skate park. The cliffs. The other classrooms. They did an entire search of the area within ten minutes, no one speaking. Zoe called Jens. Nothing.

Robbe had vanished. Sander thought he had known fear all of those years ago when he’d done his research about insane asylums. When he thought he might have to spend the rest of his old life in one of them. But that was a mere crumb in comparison to this. 

Eventually they made it back to the mansion, where Milan had succeeded in kicking everyone out before the party had truly even started. There were red solo cups littering the ground and streamers hanging forgotten from the ceiling. More mocking. Sander fell against the back wall in the living room, seeing absolutely nothing as he squeezed his eyes shut and fisted his hands in his hair. This had to be some kind of nightmare. This could not be real. That was the only explanation for the bone-deep panic he was feeling, hung out to dry amidst a tornado warning. He felt everything and nothing, two things that couldn’t exist together and yet- they did. Right where his heart was supposed to be. He was on fire again. This was laying in a hospital bed and burning alive. This was being drugged on morphine and caving in on himself. But then a second later, there was absolutely nothing as well. No rational thought. No ability to think logically. Only crushing, debilitating anxiety. And he supposed that if the world ended in flames, this was what it’d feel like.

Sander could only manage a slight tilt of his head to gaze outside, and he was met with Noor and Yasmina, the only ones still out there, both of them hunched intently Noor’s phone.

The next few moments happened in slow motion, a ringing in his ears so mind numbing he felt sick. Yasmina’s eyes flitted up to find Sander’s. She looked horrified, but she quickly looked away and muttered something to Noor. That could mean nothing good, a billion possibilities circling his brain but only one seemed to split him in half. He was being thrown into an erupting volcano. No. _No no no. He couldn’t be._

Sander raced outside in the blink of an eye, and Noor stumbled backwards, alarmed but firm. When Sander took a step forward, Noor took one back. The screen of her phone was just out of view.

“Noor, I swear to fucking god-”

“You don’t want to see it, Sander-” Noor spoke with demand. Yasmina was behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. An attempt at comfort quickly dismissed with a violent shrug.

“Is he alive?” Sander asked. He didn’t know how just three words could sound so broken.

“Yes,” Noor said certainly, that damn phone held tightly to her chest.

“Please let me see,” Sander’s voice cracked, hands shaking at his sides. “Please.”

“Sander I don’t think it’s a good-”

“Please!”

Noor recoiled at his sudden anger, but there was no surprise in her expression. Her eyes looked beyond him toward Yasmina, who must have nodded, because Noor exhaled shakily and handed Sander the phone.

It was a video. 

From Britt.

“She was the-” Noor said it like she was ashamed. “The blonde… that Lola and I…”

Sander wasn’t listening. He clicked play.

\---

When Robbe came to it was as if he was seeing everything through a hazy, finger smudged lens. Every movement caused a clinking sound of metal in his ears. He could feel a draft against his chest, signifying that he didn’t have a shirt on, and it felt like he was sitting on a rink of ice, his legs sprawled out lazily in front of him. He tried to blink his eyes rapidly, to wake up, but couldn’t seem to open them wide enough. There were only seconds of clarity before things went blurry again.

During one of those moments he looked above him, and, well, that would explain the metal sound. He was chained to a wall, his arms growing rather numb where they were clamped over his head. Also freezing around his neck was a collar-type cuff making sure he couldn’t do more than hang his head down against his chest. He tried to open his mouth, to protest, but a ball of cloth blocked his airway, choking him, deeming him silent. Fuck. His own laboured breaths were all he could hear, and he couldn’t make sense of anything else because- what was there to make sense of? Was this a dream? Why did it all feel… foggy? But then- 

_Oh._

The biology exam. Britt-

Robbe jumped when the creaking, janky wooden door opened to reveal a flash of blonde hair. He could hardly make her out through his drugged haze. While she was rather small, and young-looking, Robbe knew better than to undermine anyone these days. And he was completely helpless in the corner. He felt shame wash over his body because _here he was again._ No longer metaphorically chained to his humanity, but… actually, legitimately chained. 

“Aw, just in time.” Britt said, sadistic tone heavy and deep on her tongue. 

Behind her was another person, a man, easily six feet tall and sporting a crooked side grin that didn’t belong here. It probably shouldn’t belong anywhere. But it was his eyes that stood out the most, Robbe couldn’t take his own off of them. They were looking at Robbe like he was some kind of meal, like he was the best news he had heard all week, like Robbe was a prize. And there was something else; his face tugged on a memory buried deep in Robbe’s brain. He looked oddly familiar and yet, at the same time, Robbe was certain he had never seen him before. He could feel whatever they had drugged him with wearing off, leaving behind a painful pressure in his head. _What drug even was this? How hard had he been hit?_

And _fuck. Where was Sander?_

“He smells amazing,” The man said as he looked at Robbe. “Although his mate's scent is all over him.”

“Gross,” Britt said as she crossed her arms and watched the man approach Robbe. “Can’t you calm down for two seconds?”

The man knelt down in front of Robbe, eyes roaming from his face to his neck. A chilling sensation seeped through Robbe’s body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room as his slow-working brain realized the man was a vampire. He fiddled with the gag and ripped it out of Robbe’s mouth. A hundred questions sat on Robbe’s tongue, but he was worried about saying something he shouldn’t. He also wasn’t sure how much he could even say, mouth and throat dry. There was no telling how much they may or may not know about Sander and his clan. The man trailed a finger over Robbe’s jugular and licked his lips, and Robbe twitched away. He decided on something more simple: “Fuck off.”

“Oh, feisty,” The man pressed a finger harder into his neck, and Robbe could feel his own heartbeat in his ears. He used what little room he had to back his head harder into the wall, legs kicking up on instinct, a hitched breath practically echoing through the dimly-lit room.

“Viktor,” Britt said from the corner. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

Viktor. Oh… _Viktor._ Robbe allowed himself two seconds of realization before a flash of heat enveloped his face, overpowering the cold. This was the traitor who killed Ivan and Senne. This was the vampire who betrayed his family. 

Viktor licked his lips and exhaled hot breath onto Robbe’s neck. Despite his limpness and inability to move or even really think, the realization that this was Viktor, the Viktor who’d hurt his family and was now attempting to press his fangs into Robbe’s neck, was enough for Robbe to get violent. He used his last bit of energy to head butt Viktor in the face and start violently swinging his legs to fend him off. The pain to his forehead barely registered as Viktor recoiled in shock, although Robbe knew he didn’t do any damage. Viktor looked ready to try again, resilient and grinning, but Britt groaned in the corner. 

“Seriously?” She tisked, seemingly unbothered that Robbe had fought back. “Nasty. I don’t want to see that. We’re going to draw blood from him later, you can wait.”

They were going to take his blood. That was the confirmation he needed. Britt wasn’t a vampire. She was a hunter. A vampire hunter. Robbe couldn’t help his uneven breaths. _Please, please don’t let them have Sander too._

Now it was Britt’s turn to look at him like he was the prize. Robbe stared right back, anger outweighing the fear. He thought about all of the pain and suffering she had caused, and he let it fuel him. He let it fuel him even as she stopped a step away from him and fitted brass knuckles to her hands. Viktor leaned against the far back wall, clearly bored, and Robbe had never wanted to hurt anyone as badly as he wanted to hurt them. But he wasn’t exactly in the position for that, even more so as Britt kneeled down to patronize him.

“Try not to feel too much ill-will against me,” Britt said sweetly. “You’re here because of Driesen.”

There was no time for a reaction to the name and the accusation. The blows started to come from every direction, Robbe couldn’t keep track after a couple of brutal kicks to his face, blood on his tongue with his lip split open. Viktor took over for her to get a few good hits to his ribs, and Robbe couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. The pain was explosive, every inch of him throbbing from the mix of vampire strength and the metal on Britt’s fingers. He did his best to not cry out, but it got harder and harder the more impact was made to his ribs. It was almost worse when it stopped. All he could do was try to breathe, try to see, try to hear. High pitch ringing filled his head as he hung limply from the wall. Even his cuffs dug into his skin, a constant reminder that this was real. This was happening. It would be more bearable if only they just answered one question that he couldn’t ask. 

Robbe opened his bruising eyes to find Viktor’s thirsty stare again. Robbe’s blood, now out in the open and spilling onto floor and skin, clearly made it harder for him to resist. But with a flick of her wrist, Britt told him to leave them alone, and she must have been the higher authority, because Viktor listened.

Britt stepped in front of him again, and Robbe squeezed his eyes shut, expecting another beating, but instead she started fiddling with the chains. She loosened them a bit to haul him to his feet, and then she tightened the chains around his arms and neck again so he was forced to hang in a standing position. His legs gave out under him but the chains kept him up, head swimming from the sudden movement.

Britt twirled the knife in her hands like she was back with her pen in biology class. It felt like so long ago, and like so many times before in his life, he wished he could go back in time and do things just… slightly different. To beg Yasmina to stay behind and wait with him after class. But everything was too late. It was always too late. Britt inspected his face, his chest, his neck. Robbe heard a soft whimper escape his own lips, and he cursed himself for it. With the drug gone from his system he felt too sensitive, too aware, nauseated. 

A painted finger rested under his chin, tilting his head up so that he was forced to look at her. She turned his head one way, and then the other, her face calm and jaw set. She was inspecting him like he was a piece of art on display in her living room, a hunter's catch, a piece of meat she was considering buying at the store. Robbe was still trying to get his breathing under control when she fisted his hair between her fingers and tugged his head back. He winced, trying his best to not give her the satisfaction she was looking for. God, did it hurt though.

She trailed another finger over his neck and Robbe didn’t like it one bit because he knew what she was doing. She was considering the faded bite mark on his neck, but bile rose in his throat, at the fact that she got to witness that mark of clear intimacy. He suddenly felt protective of it, not wanting her to touch such a fond memory, not wanting her to invade that space in his mind too. He struggled against the grip in her hair. She just tightened it, forcing a pained noise out of Robbe’s mouth. 

“Hm,” Britt wondered. “Strange, that you let him do this to you. Do you have no self respect?”

He kept quiet. He knew what she wanted. A reaction.

“You’re just a pet to them, Robbe,” She trailed her knife over the mark and down around the side of his neck. “Quite frankly it’s disgusting. Oh- what’s this?”

Britt balanced the knife in her other fingers and used her pointer finger to firmly press his angel pendant harder into his chest. He knew it was stupid, but it felt like she was hurting Sander by doing this. He had to work extra hard to keep his face neutral. The grin on her face said that this was fun to her though, toying with him as she toyed with the chain of his necklace too.

“Cute,” She spoke with honeyed words. “You believe in angels? Even after all of this?”

She ripped it off of his neck, leaving a sting where it tugged into the skin. With a quick flick of the wrist, she tossed it carelessly over her shoulder. Robbe watched it fly through the air, and while he felt a throbbing pain all over, seeing the pendant discarded, like it didn’t hold every good memory, felt more harmful, more demoralizing. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and he swallowed, but it did nothing to stomach the onslaught of emotions. Britt only watched him, keeping a hand in his hair as she trailed the knife over his right cheek, leaving invisible lines until she felt like digging in further. She took her sweet time, enjoying every sting of his skin, etching carefully into the lines of his face, down his jaw, another on the bridge of his nose. Worst of all were the cuts she made where his laugh lines sat unused, a reminder that he wouldn’t be able to smile without thinking of her careful knife work. They weren’t all deep, but she was enjoying this, and maybe that was the point.

“I’m assuming they’ve told you about our weapons?” Britt finally let go of his hair.

Robbe kept his mouth shut.

Without warning, she punched his stomach. White hot pain shot through his entire chest all the way to his abdomen. If his ribs weren’t broken before, they were most definitely broken now. He couldn’t stop the cry that forced its way through his teeth, pained. Sanderd.

“Answer me when I ask you a question.”

Robbe coughed. “Yes.” He figured that answer couldn’t harm his family in any way. He futilely prayed the questions weren’t going to get harder.

“You have quite a few scars already, I see. I’d like to add to that collection.” She smiled. “Figured we’d take advantage of you, while we have you. If he loves you as much as you think, I’m sure you won’t be here long. We’ll hook you up to the machine later, take as much blood as possible. For now, we have to get you looking good for your boyfriend.”

His thoughts exploded. One, Sander and the others were not here. They were safe. The relief of that almost outweighed anything else, but then he _really_ thought about what she said. Robbe was being used to get to them, and if Sander saw Robbe like this? Robbe knew him like the back of his hand. Sander wouldn’t hesitate. If the fear didn’t kill him first, Britt would. 

Something else bounced around in his head as Britt eyed him. Their argument had been that morning, though it felt like weeks ago, and Robbe was suddenly all too aware of the timing. Robbe had said, had yelled, that wanted to protect Sander. He ached to have that ability. Maybe this was the one way he could. “You can keep me. You don’t need him.” 

She laughed. “Oh, but I do.” She began dragging the trip of the knife down his chest, like she was any match against the litany of scars there. “Tell me Robbe, did you know your boyfriend’s a murderer?”

Robbe stayed silent. He knew, but that had only been one person. One person that may haunt Sander for the rest of his life, too, but wait-

Britt brought the knife up to his throat, sharp edge pressing so firmly Robbe was sure she’d break skin, and gripped his hair in her fist again. Her face inches away from his, practically expressionless until she spoke and snarled the next words. “He killed my mother. And now I’m going to kill him.”

An overwhelming realization. “Ingel....” The vampire hunters that were after his family all of those years ago. Sander killed the last one... or so he thought. It’s what they had all thought, that they were safe.

“Ingelbrecht, now,” Britt smiled sweetly. “Changed it just for you.”

Robbe could feel the blood drooling as she went back to leaving burning lacerations. Despite the pain, Robbe needed to know more. Curiosity took precedence. He retreated into his memories, flames danced in his vision, Sander cuddled at his side as they listened to Milan’s campfire story. Britt must have been a baby when her mother was killed, seeing as that all happened in the nineties. She must have been a baby and left parentless after all that took place. 

Britt seemed to be deep in thought as she continued to work, and Robbe could suddenly see her for what she was. The black painted nails, the sickly sweet voice, the revenge tactic. A show off. This was fun for her. He thought he may be able to use that to his advantage. 

“How’d you know?” Robbe mustered up the strength to ask. “That they were vampires.”

Robbe could see the excitement that sparked in her eye and he knew that she wasn’t going to keep quiet. Britt brought the knife to his hip bone and cut a deeper line there. Robbe gritted his teeth.

“Easy,” She muttered, honey-brown eyes on his chest. “My mother had left me all of her life’s work before she died. Drawings, old photographs of the clan that she longed to put an end to. Of course, I had to be sure. The drawings weren’t very good, the pictures a bit blurry. First was becoming a TA at one of the biggest schools in Antwerp, though I wasn’t sure about Yasmina for a while there. I started frequenting where college kids would visit, the clubs, the bars, recreational stuff. I got to know Noor and Lola very, very well through many drunken nights. I found out that Milan had joined a yoga class. Then it all came together like a pretty little picture when Noor invited me to her bar party and I saw _him._ ”

Him. Sander. Their night of newsboy caps and dancing turned to bone-deep panic. Britt rested the knife over the gash in Robbe’s head, but Robbe’s mind was reeling. He had been in more pain than this, if she thought this was bad, she should have done better research.

“And then it was just too, too perfect!” She grabbed Robbe’s chin again, her face inches away. Her eyes looked as if she was in the middle of a party, happy and excited and enjoying life. “Sander Driesen and his human boyfriend. Of course, I had already spiked his drink. But it didn’t matter. After I saw the way he looked at you, I knew the plan had changed.”

“You’re going to need blood,” Robbe could feel himself getting weaker and weaker, and the thought of Sander coming here caused both his physical and mental states to tank even more than he thought possible. “I’ll stay here. I’ll cooperate, just- leave him alone. Please.”

“I’m going to need you to shut up now,” Britt put the knife in her back pocket and replaced it with a few pills. She yanked his bloody jaw open and forced them inside. He was working on dislodging them when she then grabbed the duct tape and taped his mouth shut so he couldn’t spit them out. He was forced to swallow, a metallic taste on his tongue.

He didn’t have long to let his anxious mind worry about what he had swallowed as the room became fuzzy. His entire body slumped forward in the chains, his head hanging onto his chest. He felt himself shaking with a new wave of nausea, his body not happy with the drug’s reentry to his system.

Everything sounded like he was underwater as footsteps approached again. He could only make out the flash of a phone recording him, and he felt a different kind of exhaustion. It was harder to keep a neutral face with the drug loosening him up, everything feeling very heavy and dream-like. There was no other option, no tucking the pain away for later. It all came crashing through the surface, taking form in the pulsing of his wounds, beating and beating until his eyes betrayed him. His tears mixed into the blood on his cheeks, and he moaned in anguish, in terror.

“What were you saying before, angel?” Britt used the nickname Sander had called him, and that caused his complete collapse, more of a blow than anything else she’d done so far. “Go on.”

\---

Sander hadn’t felt bothered by temperature since he was a human. But as he stared at the video on the screen, he felt as if he had been thrown into a bath full of ice and held down until he couldn’t remember his own name. Frigid suffocation. He felt as though he was punishing himself by not looking away but at the same time, how could he? Because right there was Robbe, even if it didn’t look like him. The clearly-drugged, bruised, bloody boy hanging from the wall was pulled straight from the very depth of Sander’s darkest fears. And all he could do was watch as his entire life led up to this one, brutal, chilling video.

“What were you saying before, angel? Go on.”

Only an arm came into the frame, but Sander knew immediately that it was her. Britt ripped the tape off of his mouth, and Robbe cried out. Sander heard himself make a noise in response to that that had Noor placing a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off, feeling out of control in his own body. He had to watch this. She filmed his chest as she roughly poked at the black bruises sprawling over most of his abdomen, and Robbe clearly tried to suppress a scream.

“Don’t come,” Robbe choked. “Sander, please don’t come. I love you. I’ll be okay.”

“Aw,” Britt’s voice was closer to the mic now. “He’s willing to risk his life for you, and you’re just going to let him? Look at him. So sweet, so gentle. A little too trusting, maybe. Definitely.”

She was hitting him right where it hurt. Both literally and metaphorically.

Robbe flinched away when Britt brought her arm back into frame again to drag her finger through the blood on Robbe’s cheek. “I think we’ll keep him here a little longer. You’ll have a chance to save him, maybe. But not yet. I need him for something first.”

She raised one of Robbe’s limp arms in a condescending wave, and then the video ended.

Sander dropped the phone, and the earth stopped turning in unison. The galaxies froze, the stars burnt out, the planets misaligned in every way.

Because here’s the thing. Sometimes your deepest fears seem silly, and over-thought. Sometimes even you are able to recognize that what you are fearing is irrational. But sometimes they seem to come true anyway.

There’s a guttural instinct with vampires that is more prevalent during the first couple months of transitioning. It’s the most animal-like, the most textbook of who they are as creatures. It’s easier to be set off when you’re young and new, to be vulnerable to your own emotions, to feel the venom take over and have next to no control over your body as something snaps. 

For the first time in 40 years, something snapped.

It was too much. In the simplest of terms, it was just _too much_. Every god damn part of him was pulsating, racing at impossible speed, threatening to crawl out of him and explode, to go up in flames and eradicate everything in its path. The only resemblance to this feeling was when he had been turned, scorching for two days straight, but even that didn’t do this justice. Everything around him was on fire too, just, red and fire and destruction. He couldn’t tell what was happening, only that if anyone was near him, he might take them down too. Every part of him was cracking, revealing emptiness, nothingness. Buried beneath piles of ashes were images of Robbe, the way he had squeezed his eyes shut in pain, the way he had flinched away from every touch. He was hurting, and the utter horror of that caused Sander to finally stagger away from Noor, away from that _fucking phone_ , from her voice, and fall to the ground. Fists connected with pavement. Over and over. And nothing. felt. real. 

There was shouting behind him and arms reaching out. He recognized his voice screaming but it didn’t sound like him. He felt the pressure in his throat and on his arms. Someone, probably Milan, was rolling him over. And Sander would have gotten up but Lola and Noor were there too, pinning him down. Milan leaned over him with his hand on Sander’s chest, Noor had one arm and Lola had the other. Yasmina and Zoe were stationed by his legs, and he gave a violent kick in retaliation without thinking. 

Milan peered over his face but Sander jerked his head back and into the ground below, leaving a crack in the dirt. _He needed to move, needed to find him, he needed to find him._

“Let go!” Sander yelled, breathing heavily and squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

“Sander!” Milan yelled right back in his face, grabbing his head with rough hands and forcing him to still. “Look at me.”

“No!” More struggling.

“Sander!” Milan shouted again, more demanding, more dark. Sander stilled a bit but his entire body was still shaking. “Every second wasted on this is a second we could be figuring out where they are. Please. I know this is your worst fear, but we are going to find him.”

Sander’s chest was heaving as Milan held his cheeks in his hands, unbreakable.

“He’s right,” Yasmina was saying near his left calf. “She said ‘a chance to find him’. She’s not killing him. She wants you.”

“Then she can fucking have me!” Sander exploded again.

“She’s not having anyone!” Zoe yelled from beside Yasmina. “Okay? We need to go inside.”

Zoe and Yasmina slowly eased their hands off of his legs, followed by Noor and Lola. Sander’s eyes found Lola and she gazed back with an understanding look, no pity there but definitely some fire. Milan was still holding his face.

“Okay?” Milan said gently. He let go and Sander was up in seconds, knuckles wrecked and clenched at his sides as he stormed inside the house. The others could only follow.

\---

Sander had always been gentle with him. It was one of the things Robbe could never seem to wrap his head around, how soft he actually was. Even when he was pulling his hair during sex, or tossing him playfully onto the couch and bed, there was an underlying tone of _tenderness._ A tone that said: _I will shelter you. With all my heart._ It was there. It was there in the gentle kiss to his lips as Sander’s fingers twisted in his hair, in the hand behind his head so it didn’t bang into the wall. In the caressing of his cheek as he sunk his teeth into Robbe’s neck. 

All Robbe could do was turn his attention to this, as his world and his body and his mind fell to pieces around him. To eradicate the fear, he thought about Sander’s peaceful but surprised face when he came to after not sleeping for a few days. He thought about his delicate fingers tracing the bridge of Robbe’s nose. He thought about him looking out at the world on his balcony, the apartment that he now called his home. He thought about the little life they had created for themselves these past six months and how if he got to return to it, he was going to make it last an eternity. 

He woke up feeling weaker than before. Weaker than he had in his entire life.

He squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop his head from spinning. He scrunched his face together as he tried to lift his hundred pound head, the dried blood on his face pulling where his skin tugged. He opened his eyes to see that he was now strapped to a chair with arms. His wrists were taped to them, his legs strapped to the legs, another strap around his chest, and something was poking out of his arm.

There was a blood pressure monitor around his upper arm and a needle poking out of the vein in the crook of his elbow. It was all hooked up to some cheap looking machine. He weakly turned his head so see the blood coming out of him in a steady stream into the blood bags. He forced himself to look away. He had never been queasy about blood but seeing the amount they were taking for their own evil benefit, with the added on general weakness made him feel nauseous. He didn’t know how long he had been here and he hadn’t had a scrap of food. Robbe’s eyes stopped on a rip in his jeans, poking out was the small flower Sander had drawn on his knee earlier that morning. Or yesterday. Or two days ago. He didn’t know. Either way, he let it give him the strength to lift his head.

Viktor wandered into the room, and Robbe forced himself to lean his head against the chair. All the vampire did was check the monitors, not even a glance toward Robbe until he spoke. 

Robbe’s voice came out strained and quiet, but he tried to sound casual. “Why are you doing this?”

Viktor moved to the back wall and leaned against it, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Robbe’s eyes wandered to his face and was surprised to see that he looked oddly apologetic. He should probably attempt to take advantage of that vulnerability.

Viktor found Robbe’s eyes. “I’m not going to, uh, bite you. I was out of line before.” He looked at the blood bags, thirst overwhelming in his eyes even from afar. “You just smell great.”

Robbe frowned. “Okay.” He wasn’t sure if he believed that.

Viktor rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking mad. “I know. It’s disgusting.”

Robbe thought back to what he knew about Viktor. Turned by Milan, a deep hatred of vampires, before and after being turned. “Why are you working against your own kind?”

“My kind…” Viktor chuckled darkly, a little mocking. “I worked with Britt’s mother.”

“But why?”

“I didn’t want to be turned.”

“I know,” Robbe replied. “I was told.”

“So then you were told how I was turned against my will,” Viktor glared at him. “Was I supposed to just drop my whole life because of it? Your body might change, but your ideals don’t.”

Robbe studied his face. He tried to see any sign of Senne, the Senne he knew through tales and photos alone, the good, rebellious brother who saw vampire hunting for what it was and vampires themselves for what they were. But Viktor’s eyes, his face, his expression held none of it. All he could see was a boy destroyed by his parents. Robbe tried to understand anyway.

“Did you have a choice?” Robbe asked, trying to make his voice less-faint.

Viktor’s eyes narrowed to a point, and they would have drilled Robbe to the seat if he wasn’t already tied. “What are you getting at?”

“I know Senne chose differently,” Robbe treaded through dangerous waters. “So why didn’t you?”

Whatever apologetic expression Robbe had seen before vanished without a trace. Viktor’s body seized up at the mention of his brother. His eyes bore into Robbe’s and Robbe saw the vampires he had always envisioned in his nightmares before he’d come face to face with them. A hunter, clad with eyes dark as night and a stare so vicious Robbe wished he could run away from it alone. Viktor took his time advancing toward Robbe, slow and creeping like a hunter. Robbe set his jaw and tried to appear unbothered as Viktor fisted Robbe’s hair and craned his neck back, staring down at him with eyes that showed no sign of humanity. Robbe blinked through the pain in his scalp.

“Do not say his name.”

“I’m not the cause of his death,” Robbe antagonized. “I’m allowed.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Viktor leaned down so that he was a breath away from Robbe’s face. 

“I’m just trying to understand,” Robbe said through gritted teeth. “How your hatred for vampires outweighed your love for your brother.”

“I didn’t love him,” Viktor fired back. “I did what I had to do.”

“I think you’re full of shit.”

Viktor tightened his grip, and Robbe was surprised none of his hair was pulled out with it. He couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped through his mouth and the welling of his eyes at the tension on his head. Viktor smiled, fangs glinting against the small amount of light coming through the window. 

“Tell me then,” Viktor said. “Who you think I am?”

“I think your parents ruined you,” Robbe answered. “I think you were jealous of Senne for getting away from them. I think that you killed him because of it, and you think it’s too late to change your mind after all of these years, but it’s not. You could still make a choice, the right one this time. And-”

“And let you go?” Viktor let out a laugh, borderline villainous, but he still let go of Robbe’s hair in favour of placing his hands on his knees and leaning over Robbe’s face. “Of course. I untie you, we prance off into the sunset holding hands and welcomed back into Milan’s group with open arms? You think they would take me after all of this? We killed Milan’s mate. We killed S- we killed my brother. Zoe, Milan, they would never-”

“You’re wrong,” Robbe cut him off. “You don’t know them.”

“I do know them,” Viktor said. “I know vampires. At the end of the day, who they are, their species, speaks louder.”

“But why do you hate vampires so much?” Robbe felt weaker and weaker with each passing minute, the experience of being drained nothing like when Sander bit him.

“Look, kid,” Viktor stood up straight, seemingly getting bored. “It’s unnatural. It’s immoral. We’re all going to hell for it. The least I can do is use the strength I was given to try to rid the world of the rest of us.”

“So what you’re doing here is somehow better?” Robbe fought back, nodding to the blood bags beside him.

Viktor surprised Robbe by laughing. “A word of advice? Don’t say that to Britt. It gets her upset.”

As if on cue, Britt wandered into the room with them, and Robbe’s nausea flared up. Viktor nodded at her, watching as she took her own look at the monitors. “That’s probably all he can take for now.”

“A few more minutes,” She squinted down at Robbe. “He’s not pale enough yet.” Followed by a wink and a pat to the head.

“I have a question.” 

“I don’t care.” She replied, putting her hands on her hips and turning her attention back to the machine.

“Not a question,” Robbe was feeling very light headed. “A statement. You’re hypocrites.”

“Don’t make me gag you again.”

“You think vampires are ‘nasty’ and ‘unnatural’, yet you’re here taking my blood for weapons. For your own benefit.”

Britt had walked over to a cabinet and back as Robbe spoke. He knew he had said something that hit a nerve, Viktor shaking his head at him, because she was grabbing hold of his jaw and stuffing two more pills into his mouth, ripping a piece of duct tape off of the roll and aggressively slapping it against his lips. He smiled up at her with his eyes, feeling a sense of victory, and she slapped him for real this time. The pain didn’t register.

“You’re blind,” She put her hands on his thighs and leaned down to be level with his eyes. “I feel sorry for you.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.

\---

Nothing seemed real. 

Yasmina had books sprawled open on the dining table, information on past vampire hunters, vampire hunters in Antwerp, names of bloodlines strewn every which way. Noor and Zoe were helping her while Milan had his laptop open in the free space on the corner of the table, looking up locations in the city that Britt could possibly be keeping Robbe. 

And nothing felt real. So Sander paced with his arms holding his chest. He fought off every wave of panic that threatened to debilitate him, holding onto Noor’s phone as if it was going to announce where Robbe was at any second, and maybe it would. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything because nothing felt real.

At one point Sander fell onto the couch and propped his elbows on his thighs, running shaky hands over his face. He was just trying to breathe, just trying to make sense of how everything could go so wrong so fast. This had been his biggest fear. Since before he met Robbe, this had been it. The fear that the happiness was too good to be true, that at any moment something could happen and he could lose everything. He should have been more careful. The second his drink was spiked he should have taken Robbe and his family and run, but now they were here. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might never see Robbe again.

Lola was sitting beside him, not touching him, not speaking, just sitting quietly. It was all too familiar. Lola and Sander had been here before. 

Noor was leaning her hands on the table in between Yasmina and Milan, frowning hard at the book before lifting her head. “Are we thinking it’s someone new?”

Milan didn’t take his eyes off of the laptop. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Me neither,” Yasmina responded, her own eyes glued to the tablet in front of her. “Vampire hunters in Antwerp? Still? It doesn’t feel right.”

Zoe had a cup of coffee in her hands as she stood there, a far-away expression on her face. “There aren’t many people who hate us _this_ much.”

Yasmina looked up at Zoe when she heard the hesitant tone of her voice. “You don’t think…”

“I could have sworn he was dead,” Zoe replied, hurt eyes on Yasmina. “And how would he know Britt?”

“He?” Noor asked, looking between them. They had a piece of the puzzle shared between them, but Noor had no part in that.

“Viktor.” Zoe and Yasmina responded at the same time.

Milan looked up from the screen, a haunted expression coming over his face. Sander looked between Milan and Zoe and suddenly saw himself in them. In their grief. They were everything he feared becoming. His fingers threatened to rip his hair out, strand by strand if necessary for distraction.

“We didn’t know Viktor the last time we were in Antwerp either,” Noor shook her head. “It would be a crazy coincidence if he was here.”

“Yet I can’t shake the feeling that this is personal.” Yasmina looked back down at the book. 

Noor’s phone, still clutched in Sander’s hand, buzzed to life, sending a wave of nerves through his body. The room stilled, and Sander wondered if the rest of the world did too. It sure fucking felt like it. 

He tapped the message within a millisecond.

It was another video. Attached to it was a message that read: **be patient!**

Robbe was still chained to the wall, except even Sander could see how much worse he looked. He was paler, and fucked out, hanging there limp and unresponsive. The blood had dried on his chest and stomach, but the bruises were darkening. He had one black eye, but the other might as well have been with how dark the circles there were. There was also a bruise forming on his jaw and blood painted his face. Sander felt nothing for it, no thirst, only this white hot panic that seemed to become him. 

“Wake up, angel,” Britt tapped Robbe’s face rather aggressively. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “We’re going to tell your friends about who we’ve been hanging out with.”

Robbe’s eyes fluttered open. He was trying to hold his head up but failing miserably, and his eyes were looking down as if he had an aversion to the camera. Sander could see how out of it he was, and yet, how he was still looking at Britt with some level of fire. He hadn’t given up yet, and Sander loved him even more for it. 

“Viktor!” Britt yelled.

Milan and Zoe gasped from behind Sander, but he couldn’t rip his eyes from the screen. He watched Viktor saunter into the room looking bored, and annoyed, as if doing this to Robbe meant nothing to him. And it didn’t. Sander wanted to kill him. “What?”

“Say hi,” Britt said from behind the camera. “Although I’m sure the boyfriend will be here soon, won’t you Sander? And by the way, if you don’t come alone, I’ll slit his throat long before you touch him again. Viktor will make sure of that.”

She pointed the camera back at Robbe, who shook his head. “Don’t.” He whispered.

Britt reached her hand into frame to cup Robbe’s cheek. It was too delicate. “Poor baby.”

“Why him?” Robbe suddenly asked, looking as though it took every ounce of energy. But there was something else. He said it staring straight into the camera, eyes desperate.

Britt snorted as she tapped Robbe’s cheek with her hand. “Because he deserves it for putting you through this.”

Then she cut the video.

Yasmina had been watching from over his shoulder, and she didn’t move when it ended. She didn’t seem real, a statue frozen.

Sander ran out the back door. Inside didn’t feel real. But neither did the outside. The trees swaying in the warm breeze looked to be happening in a dream. The air choked him. His hands were trembling. It was his fault. Britt was right. In every way, she was right. This was Sander’s fault. If Robbe had never met Sander, this wouldn't have happened. If Sander had turned Robbe, this wouldn’t have happened. _God, why did nothing feel real?_ His hands didn’t look like his hands. And they reminded him of Robbe. The setting sun looked like an ugly painting, blurry and unclear and wrong. And it reminded him of Robbe. He couldn’t do it. _He couldn’t do this._ Another wave of self-hatred slammed him in the chest as he fell to his knees, fisting his hair to distract from the oncoming hysteria. He was useless. He didn’t know how to think, to breathe, to help. Robbe needed him and here he was. Powerless to this terror.

A hand was suddenly on his back, and he couldn’t even lift his head to see who it was. He was conscious of them kneeling beside him, the hand a magnetic weight against his black shirt, and he only realized it was Zoe when she spoke, “Just breathe.”

“My head is pounding,” Sander heaved through clenched teeth. “Fuck.”

“Remember what Milan said?” Zoe whispered. “About how some things are powerful enough to force a human reaction out of us?” 

Sander couldn’t move from where he was curled over. He briefly wondered if there was anything more powerful, more debilitating but more motivating, than this nauseating fear. “I need to get to him, Zoe.”

“I know,” She rubbed circles in the space between his shoulder blades. “We’re going to.”

“But what if we don’t?”

“You’re always looking too far ahead,” She said with more conviction. “We’ll deal with that if it happens.”

“I can’t do this.” Sander abruptly stood up, taking a step back from her. He _really_ couldn’t do this. He couldn’t consider a day where he would face that. He couldn't. But the first half of her sentence had been correct, he couldn’t look that far. He had to stop considering it. Robbe was out there, alive and in pain and alone. That was not the way for Robbe to go. Sander was meant to protect him, and at the same time, Robbe was meant to protect him right back. They had a deal. 

Save each other. 

Sander dashed back into the house, with a newfound determination and his hands clenched into fists. 

He hadn’t realized Yasmina was stepping in front of him, cutting off his path, until he was toe to toe with her. Sander stopped with a high pitched skid of his shoe.

“Why you?” Yasmina asked, eyes trapped in a frantic back and forth with his own. It was the look she had whenever she was onto something. “Robbe said ‘why him?’”

Sander spoke through clenched teeth, rather annoyed at the question. He knew it was his fault. “Because he’s a human, it was the easiest way-”

“Yes, but we knew that already,” Yasmina drilled into him. “Robbe would never have just asked that question, knowing you were listening, if it didn’t mean something.”

“But Robbe’s been drugged out of his mind. I don’t know that he’s thinking straight,” Zoe said as she came up from behind Sander.

Sander was clueing into what Yasmina was saying though. It made too much sense. “Yes, but Robbe… he’s strong against those kinds of things… he would never… knowing I would hear it...”

Yasmina was sprinting in and out of the room in seconds flat, returning with piles of journals. She slammed them onto the dining table as the others watched. As she was shuffling through, Sander joined her side. “How many people have you killed, Sander?”

“One.” His head spun. 

“So if anyone was to ever hate you most,” Yasmina continued. “Who would that be?”

“The Ingel family,” Sander muttered the last name. It was a name he’d tried to forget but knew he never could, one that weighed heavily on tongue and heart.

Yasmina finally found what she was looking for. It was a photograph of a woman with long blonde hair and a young look to her. It was the woman he had killed because she was the last of the vampire hunting clan and was holding a knife to Yasmina’s throat. She was the spitting image of Britt, but they hadn’t looked at any of these findings for years having put that fight to an end.

“I would bet Britt’s her daughter.” Yasmina ran a hand through her hair.

“She had a daughter?” Noor asked, standing up. 

“Probably kept her a secret,” Lola spoke up. “So we wouldn’t know. Vampire hunting _is_ a bloodline.”

“And we killed her in-” Zoe continued.

“Ghent,” Milan answered. “An hour away. Oh my god.”

“Let me see that video again?” Zoe asked for the phone. Lola retrieved it from the couch and handed it to Zoe. She turned the volume down so that they didn’t have to hear it again. Sander shuffled through his own thoughts.

Ghent. The Ghent where they’d killed Britt’s mother. Where _he_ killed Britt’s mother. There was only one noteworthy place in Ghent, and it was dirty and dusty and it took up haunted space in Sander’s memories. _The warehouse._ Back then, it had been utilized as a place for vampire hunters to congregate, but once they caught wind that vampires were onto them and their dwindling numbers, they’d destroyed everything that was housed there. Documents, history, weapons. Well, almost everything. Not everything was gone, and if Britt had whatever findings her mother had left her, and she must have, considering she knew about Viktor and the clan, then they must not have destroyed all of the documents. Meaning Britt would have known about the building. Meaning it would be a perfect place to take Robbe.

Sander was on his feet and out of the house before anyone could mutter a word. He could hear Zoe reaching the same realization as she inspected the video. “That’s where we killed her. I’m almost sure of it.”

But Sander didn’t wait.

\---

Robbe was chained to the wall again, blood, if he had any left, roared in his ears, and it all felt so damn confusing. He had no feeling to his arms, but occasionally he felt a strong ache every time he clenched his fist. Blood littered the floor beneath him. His blood. Drying. At least, he was pretty sure. The room hardly existed in front of him, he had no idea how much time had passed, and he kept forgetting what was happening. He would close his eyes for two minutes and open them again, wondering if it had been an hour or two minutes, maybe even a whole day. 

There was a figure in the corner of the room, but it kept swirling together. Robbe wanted to care that it was probably Britt coming to drug him again, but he couldn’t. He wanted to care that Viktor was in another room probably drinking his blood, but he couldn’t. 

The figure pushed off the wall and Robbe couldn’t help but recoil. The drug made every part of him vulnerable, and he hated it. He knew he could take the physical pain, but this? This was soul destroying. It was taking everything about him and weakening it. There was a tiny window to Robbe’s right, and the blinds were pulled, leaving a small glow to hit the centre of the floor. The figure stepped into that light, bleach blonde hair luminous in a dark room. So bright Robbe squinted. He would know that face anywhere.

Sander was looking at him with a content expression, the corners of his lips perked up slightly. He was wearing all black, his skin so pale against it. It was beautiful. He stopped in front of Robbe and cupped his face. 

“Hi baby,” Sander whispered. He gently pulled the tape off, and there was no pain. Sander could never hurt him. He was so gentle.

“Sander…” Robbe spoke, trying to keep his eyes open. Sander held his face up, trailing his thumbs over Robbe’s cheekbones. Again, it didn’t hurt. Suddenly nothing did.

“I’m right here,” Sander whispered, leaning his forehead against Robbe’s. “I’m right here.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Robbe squeezed his eyes shut. “You need to go.”

“I can’t,” Sander whispered against his lips. “I could never.” Sander brushed his nose against Robbe’s. “Just hold on.”

Robbe blinked, and Sander was gone. Robbe felt grief hit him like a ton of bricks. Grief… what a strange thing, to grieve someone who was still alive, to fear the unknown, to never know if time spent with someone would be the last. He’d never be able to come to terms with it, he realized, as tears streamed down his bruised face. He missed Sander more than he’d ever missed anything in his life, and he felt regret deep within his bones that he’d spent his last moments with Sander mad and stubborn, wanting for something that might never happen now. And that was another thing. None of that mattered anymore. None of it. All he needed was Sander, human or not. As if this pain wasn’t enough, it increased tenfold when he imagined how this might feel from Sander’s end. If Robbe was honest with himself, he’d rather be in this position, opposed to watching Sander suffer through a phone screen. There had to be some sort of connection beyond the realm of reality, because he swore he could feel Sander’s pain too. If he ever got to hold Sander again, there would be no letting go. That was a promise.

His hazy mind could recognize Britt joining him in the room next, sporting a knife in her hands as he’d come to understand was the device of her choice. The sight of her made the adrenaline in his body pick up, and it was like greeting an old friend. He held on to that as much as he could, especially as the drug started to make its way out of his system.

She sat down in the chair that Robbe had recently been strapped to, straddling it backwards. She leaned her arms on the back of it and twirled the knife between her two hands.

“You can either make this easy on yourself,” Britt began. “Or not. It’s totally up to you. I have a few questions that I need answers to either way though.”

She got up and walked towards him, and Robbe willed himself to stay still. He focused on how young she looked, how she clearly used darker eyeshadow and eyeliner to appear older. How her blonde, stringy hair fell against her black clothing, and how she had probably never known love a day in her life. Britt was a follower. Thrown into a life she had no business being in, just as Viktor. And Robbe felt sorry for them. Even as Britt ripped the tape off of his face with anger and lack of remorse.

“Did you have a choice?” Robbe heard himself asking. 

Britt threw the tape on the ground and then stopped, freezing, the knife dangling from her fingertips. She furrowed her brows. “Excuse me?”

“Vampire hunting,” Robbe whispered, the pain to his ribs was making it hard to speak now, skin incredibly tender. Everything inside him felt so volatile. “Was it a choice?”

Britt abruptly grabbed onto the collar cuff around his neck and tugged it, choking him. Robbe gasped any remaining air to his lungs, but he kept his eyes on her. Then, with every ounce of energy left, he smiled. “Guess not.” He wheezed out.

Britt actually smirked as she let go and Robbe took a heavy and relieved breath, ignoring the protest from his ribs.

“You like playing with fire,” Britt placed her hands on her hips. “Interesting.”

“Look who I hang out with,” Robbe coughed, testing her. “Are you surprised?”

Britt searched his face for a moment, then she scoffed as she looked away. “I was told not to open the stack of information she left me until I was twelve. It was hard not to hate vampires after reading what she dedicated her life to. So yes, I did have a choice, I could have burned it all to the ground and moved the fuck on. But how could I? Your clan was still out there. There aren’t many of us left, and certainly no one was looking for them. So I had to do it. I’ve killed a few other vampires who got in the way, but they were just practice.”

She was in front of him now, and she brought the knife up to gently move some of the hair from Robbe’s forehead. She smiled. “Thanks for making it easy for me.”

“And Viktor?” Robbe asked. “When did he come in?”

“A few months ago,” She pressed her thumb into the bruise on his jaw. “He’s an idiot, I almost killed him. But he’s been useful. He hates vampires more than any vampire hunter I’ve known. Especially Milan’s clan. Without him you probably wouldn’t be here, unless I found other options. He sped up the process.” 

Robbe had to agree with the idiot part. Whilst he knew about Viktor’s past, it was still so hard for him to understand Viktor. Viktor, hunting his own kind. Viktor, so hell-bent on his prejudices that he couldn’t see a single other side. If Robbe had to feel bad for anyone in this situation, it was definitely the blonde standing in front of him.

“I know you’re angry,” Robbe softened his voice. “Because Sander killed your mother. But he had no choice. He was just protecting his family.”

“By killing mine,” Britt abruptly took a step back, the knife still clenched at her side. Robbe noticed a hiccup in her resolve, in the way she was biting the inside of her lip to stop it from quivering, in the way she was looking at Robbe less like a toy and more like a human. “I grew up alone, with no one, because of your clan of blood suckers. Dead, worthless, soulless-”

“I know the feeling,” Robbe cut her off and shifted a little, the clinking of the chains became the only sound in the room as she stared at him for a moment with droopy eyes, knife almost forgotten in her hand. “Trust me, I’ve lost… I’ve lost too. But you can’t let it define you-”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” She sneered, taking a step closer again. The knife was remembered. “I’m finishing what my mother started. That’s it.”

“I don’t believe you,” Robbe said. “I think you’re angry. You’re angry that you grew up without a mother, yes, but you’re also angry that this was her life. You think you’re too far in but you’re not. You can stop this. You can-”

“Cute,” Britt gripped his collar in his fists again. She didn’t tug, but Robbe got the message. “Your little psychoanalysis game? It isn’t working. I was your biology TA, not psychology.”

“Britt, there’s more to life than this,” Robbe had to try one more time, even as she started tugging on the chain, cutting off a bit of his airway. “Milan’s clan, they’re not hurting anyone. You’ve seen them. You can let this go. You’re going to get hurt-”

Britt tugged again until his breath was completely cut off. He didn’t take his eyes off of her though, even as he felt his face going beat red.

“My turn,” She smiled a wicked, entertained smile. “Robbe Ijzermans, lost his mother two years ago and now thinks he can relate to me, someone who never knew hers. Robbe, meets a clan of bloodsuckers who make him feel like he’s worth more than he is. Robbe, willing to die for those that are already dead. Who’s the real loser here?” She finally let go, and Robbe spluttered, trying to regain his breath. Britt watched him cough and rattle in his chains.

When he stilled, Britt brought the knife to Robbe’s arm. “Now, it’s your turn.”

Robbe’s eyes roamed to the knife she was teasing on his upper arm.

“How many properties do they own?” Britt asked, tilting her head. It was as if he’d made no progress, all the energy he wasted on sympathy lost. Gone.

Robbe squinted at her, then at the knife, then back at her face. “Zero.”

She dug in then. Robbe grunted, slamming his head back into the wall. The pain was a lot, but it was nothing compared to imagining Sander in this situation. Chained to a wall, Britt’s vampire knife to his pale skin, stripped of life for a second time. Physical pain was nothing.

Although, this was definitely the deepest gash she had made yet.

“Come on, Robbe,” She said sweetly, the knife still in his arm. “Info for info?”

Robbe couldn’t stop the grin from sweeping over his face. “Should have made that deal before you opened your mouth.”

She dug the knife in deeper and Robbe squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, an actual scream vibrating somewhere inside him and threatening to leave. She slowly pulled the knife down his arm, deep through his flesh for a couple inches before she took it out.

“I’ve been going easy on you,” Britt gripped his chin hard. “Don’t make me break you.”

Britt smiled again as she dug in the pocket of jeans and pulled something out. She tilted her head and brought a pill up to his eyes. Robbe heart sank. He hated the feeling the drug brought him. He felt too vulnerable, too out of it, like his brain was separated from his body and neither were responsible enough to keep him and the people he loved safe. 

“Open up,” She smiled. When Robbe didn’t she forced his mouth open and forced the pills down his throat, gripping his hair and covering his mouth with her hand. He closed his eyes as he swallowed, knowing it was pointless. Everything, now, might be pointless. He couldn’t tell.

Britt waited until his mind went hazy, until he felt confused and nauseous, and his body hung there like it weighed four hundred pounds. He wasn’t giving up, but physically, he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. The drug made it hard to hold onto his mind, hard to resist the oncoming emotions and their destructive path. In fact, he was feeling so out of it that he couldn’t control his voice from muttering one word. “Sander.”

“Aw,” She placed a finger under his chin and lifted his head up. “Tell me about him, angel.”

“Don’t call me that.” He coughed.

“Where does he live these days, hmm?” She petted his hair, twisting a dirty curl around her finger and then yanking. 

“Fuck off.”

Britt slapped him.

“You mated with him,” Britt tugged his hair in her fingers. “I know they’ve told you everything. You know what I’m going to do when he comes? I’m going to make you watch when I kill him.”

Robbe swallowed. Her face was a blur in front of him, the entire room was. All he could hear was her voice and the colours of the room swirling together. He felt outside of his body. Her words were the only thing keeping him there and he had no choice but to imagine what she was saying. Sander dying in front of Robbe’s eyes. Robbe, powerless to do anything about it. His deepest fear.

“Don’t,” Robbe heard himself say, but it sounded like it was echoing through a tunnel. “Please.” He hated himself for sounding so small.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Britt muttered. “Odd how you put his life before your own, and he’s hardly alive. Tell me, Robbe. Where will they go next? Once Sander is dead.”

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Robbe winced.

“I will,” Britt grinned. “That’s a promise.”

Through a brief moment of clarity, Robbe saw Britt’s snarl change to concern in a split second, and he didn’t have time to question before she was grabbing the duct tape from the table and using a chunk of it to gag him once again. She patted it down and spun on her heel, hastily leaving him behind.

Robbe’s head fell against his chest, exhausted, but there was something else there. Something in the room had shifted, a calling, a-

A pull.

\---

Sander could smell Robbe’s blood from the car as he pulled up, but he didn’t waste a single second. He dashed into the warehouse in the blink of an eye, every part of him screaming to end this. He felt a phantom heartbeat in his ears, his chest, his gut. It might have been his, but it also might have been Robbe’s. He felt adrenaline. It reminded him of Robbe too, and it kept him going.

It was hard to breathe when he was met with the familiar dim lighting and smell of rusty piping. Even Sander could recognize that it was quite cold. The entire place reminded him of the asylums he feared all of those years ago, and he wanted to grab Robbe and run far away. The thought of Robbe, gentle and kind and good, in a place like this had a new wave of human nausea crawling through him. A soul like Robbe didn’t belong here. 

It was too quiet. He stopped when he realized, and then he tried to feel him. He knew the sound of Robbe’s heart like the back of his hand.

He could feel him here. He could feel him anywhere.

Sander didn’t waste a second of time as he bounded to the back of the warehouse, the very last room in the corner.

And then he was freezing in his tracks. The scuffle of his boots was almost the worst sound he’d ever heard.

Britt stood in the doorway with Robbe in front of her, a hand fisting his brown curls so that his head was pulled back and leaning against her shoulder. His arms were chained behind his back, and his ankles together, duct tape spreading from the side of his head, over his mouth and across, and she had a knife to his throat. He was in the same pants he wore to his final class before everything went to hell, and his chest was exposed, looking worse than it did in the videos she sent. He had a black eye, another bruise on his jaw, cuts on the opposite cheek and the bridge of his nose with a gash somewhere at the top of his head, blood oozing down the side of his face. 

But the doe eyes that Sander remembered being light and playful and full of life were now drugged, only half-there and hazy. And when they flickered to Sander’s, it felt like the only cue he needed.

He sprung forward, seeing nothing but red, when a tug of his arms so sudden had him falling backwards. 

Viktor had used one of their weapons, formed from Robbe’s blood, two sets of chains that he swung forward to wrap around both of Sander’s arms and hold him back. And it worked. He was essentially immobile as Viktor gripped his neck and forced him to his knees, sharp nails penetrating Sander’s skin.

“Get off me,” Sander struggled, rage bubbling in his throat. 

But when his eyes looked up, that’s when he saw it. A sickening grin spread on Britt’s face.

“Hey angel,” Britt’s cheek was pressed into Robbe’ hair as she spoke into his ear. “Remember how I said I was going to make you watch? Keep your eyes open.”

She threw Robbe to the floor like he was a waste. Robbe fell heavy and broken onto his side, facing Sander, but what broke Sander’s heart was that he wasn’t even struggling, he was so drugged out of his mind. He was making these hurt noises as he tried to keep his eyes open. Sander had to look away for a minute, trying to stop himself from getting distracted, and he glanced down reluctantly. He knew it looked like submission.

On the floor in front of him… was the angel pendant. Dented, and abused, and Sander violently surged against the chains. Britt shook her head as she slowly walked to stand in front of Sander, twiddling the knife between her fingers. Sander refused to look at her.

She didn’t seem to like that. She roughly grabbed his chin and forced his face up, running a rather gentle finger over his cheek and thumbing at moles there. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m happy to get some time alone, seeing as I’m so well acquainted with your friends. Are they almost here?”

He struggled again. God, he just needed to get to Robbe. He just had to get to him.

“I’m here alone.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She trailed the knife over his temple, digging in. He let out a shocked gasp when he felt blood drop down his cheek.

“That’s not even a fraction of what I did to him.”

Something in him broke.

He broke free of the chains just as he heard shouting from behind him. Looking back, he would vaguely be able to recall the rest of his family catapulting into the warehouse, Milan heading straight for Britt before she could touch Sander. He would recall screams of “Viktor!” from Zoe, Viktor stumbling through the building just out of arm's reach, sharp zipping of air in his ears Viktor ran, and a high pitched, spine-chilling scream. But in the moment, just as he tasted freedom, he could only see Robbe.

He crashed to the floor beside him, pulling him into his arms as the fight continued to go on behind him. He tried to be gentle but there was a fierceness to his movements. Just as he had always wanted, to shield Robbe from the bad parts of this world, he carried Robbe further into the back room and kicked the door shut behind them. With one quick glance he realized it was the room Robbe had been tortured in, the chains still hanging there and blood on the floor.

The panic that had been engulfing him since the moment this all started had yet to lessen. He wasn’t sure if it ever would. Was this his permanent reality? He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do as he fell to his knees but kept Robbe in his arms, one hand on the back of his hair to keep his head up, and stared down at his drugged expression. He spoke softly. “I’m going to- I’m going to take the tape off okay?”

He slowly ripped it off, and Robbe winced, and Sander winced in turn. He was afraid to move him, to hurt him, to break him. Something banged heavily into the door, commotion still ongoing outside, but then Yasmina was rushing in, slamming the door shut behind her. She fell beside them with determined eyes.

“We need to check his vitals,” She said as she put two fingers over his pulse and closed her eyes in concentration. “It’s slow from whatever she drugged him with, but it’s steady.”

Yasmina ripped the chains off with her bare hands as Sander held him, not able to let go. It might have killed him. Sander kissed the top of his head and pulled him a little closer to his chest, not blinking in case Robbe disappeared. Yasmina was gently caressing one of Robbe’s arms, inspecting the mark left by the needle, and then looking around, spotting the chair in the corner. “They’ve taken quite a bit of blood.”

The nausea was almost debilitating. 

“We’re going to get you out of here.”

Robbe eyes fluttered, wincing as he tried to look up at Sander. “You shouldn’t be here…”

“It’s okay,” Sander spoke into Robbe’s hair just as a loud bang could be heard from outside of the room again, the world crashing around them. “I’m here,” Sander choked. “I’m here. It’s okay. I got you.”

Yasmina ripped a part of her t-shirt. “This looks fresh.” She said as she gently wrapped the fabric around the gash on Robbe’s arm. Robbe groaned, and Sander buried his face in Robbe’s hair. Sander was grateful for her because his brain felt like it had been left at the door. He couldn’t care about anything but the weight and warmth of Robbe in his grasp.

“This isn’t real,” Robbe whispered, hazy eyes looking at Sander’s face. 

“It is,” Sander said. “It is ang- It is.” Sander was afraid of calling him angel again.

“He’s probably hallucinated,” Yasmina said with that same determined-calmness. “Ketamine is my best guess.”

Milan was running into the room next, stopping at the doorway, his hair a little unruly around his head but otherwise untouched. He waved for them to follow. “Come.”

Sander slowly stood up, keeping Robbe cradled to his chest and Yasmina stood at his side to make sure Robbe wasn’t jostled around too much. Sander walked slowly but with pace as to not hurt him even more than he already was as they joined the others outside.

Sander stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes found Britt, pinned to the wall by Lola and Noor. Lola had one hand around Britt’s throat, not squeezing, but a reminder that she could at any moment. When Sander glared, Britt struggled in anger. 

“Viktor’s gone,” Milan looked frustrated from where he was standing in front of Britt. “He ran as soon as we arrived.”

“Fucking coward!” Noor yelled, taking her anger out by pushing Britt’s shoulder further into the wall.

Sander couldn’t stop staring at Britt. He wanted to kill-

“I’m waiting,” Britt spoke up, teeth clenched and voice ragged. 

“What?” Sander asked, squeezing Robbe closer to his chest.

“Kill me,” Britt sneered, and for some reason the sight of it caused an even greater chill to crawl up his spine. “Kill me like you killed my mother.”

“Shut up,” Lola squeezed her throat tighter, but Britt continued to smile.

Milan ran over to Robbe and Sander. Zoe was looking upset in the corner. Sander knew she wanted Viktor dead more than any of them, except Milan. There was also the added fear that Viktor would come for Robbe again to finish what they started. Sander just needed to get him far away from here. Away from _her,_ and away from the possibility of Viktor returning.

“Yasmina, Zoe,” Milan was springing into action. “Do a perimeter run. Make sure he’s not watching where we go. I’m afraid he knows about our home so we’re going to Sander’s. I’m going to make sure Robbe is okay, Noor, Lola… finish the job, and then we’re going to go find Viktor.”

Yasmina and Zoe didn’t hesitate, racing outside in the blink of an eye. 

Milan brought a hand to Robbe’s forehead, and Robbe flinched away, shaking his head.

Sander kissed his head protectively. “It’s okay, it’s just Milan.”

“Do it!” Britt yelled again from the corner, and the sound made Robbe whimper.

And that was all Sander needed. Not to run over there and snap her neck, to stab a knife into her heart or slit her throat. None of those things. It was enough for Sander to look up at her and meet her cold, evil eyes, and hold his chin high. It was enough for him to look at her, really, really look at her, to study every inch of the face who almost took everything from him, and say goodbye. Sometimes it takes great strength to do the opposite of what’s expected from you. And that’s what Sander did. He tore his eyes away from Britt’s to meet Noor’s, and then Lola’s, who both nodded at him knowingly-

And then he walked out of the warehouse one last time.

Sander followed Milan to the car, getting in the passenger seat and holding Robbe to his chest.

Sander kept him close the entire ride back to the apartment, the fear not letting up because Robbe’s face was red and sweaty and Sander wasn’t sure the extent of the damage Britt had done to him. “Keep your eyes open.” Sander kept saying as Milan drove way past the speed limit, his face trying way too hard to appear calm. There was more to this for Milan. There was fear of them all to be split up. Sander couldn’t hide anything. He kept pushing Robbe’s hair out of his face, trying to monitor if he was getting any worse through the overwhelming mixture of relief and anxiety in his heart.

Robbe was dead weight in his arms, his face also trying to hide the clear pain he was in. It broke Sander’s heart. Sander ripped part of his shirt to use the fabric to dab at the blood oozing down the side of his face. He still didn’t feel a damn thing for the blood. Nothing felt real.

Milan helped wrap a blanket around Robbe once they parked outside of the apartment. They got out of the car slowly, trying to act nonchalant so as to not draw any attention. They walked quickly through the door and once they were by the stairwell they were back to sprinting. It was faster than the elevator.

Once inside Sander’s apartment, Sander sat on the bed with Robbe still in his arms and unable to move. Milan was loud as he knocked about the apartment gathering supplies, but then Milan was slipping into the bedroom, quieter and gentle.

“Lay him on the bed,” Milan said when Sander didn’t move, his eyes on Robbe’s face. “C’mon, it’s okay.”

Milan helped him position Robbe’s head on the pillows, his eyes still half open, looking as if it was a struggle to stay awake, and Sander sat beside him on the bed with one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand.

Sander listened, letting Milan take charge. He felt another new human-thing he hadn’t felt in years. Sickness. Robbe’s chest was littered in bruises, the most prominent one being almost black on his stomach. There were also various cuts surrounding them, looking to be careful knife work in symbols and lines he didn’t recognize. He sat with the phantom pain and only lifted Robbe’s hand to kiss his palm.

“His ribs are broken,” Milan said immediately as he gently dragged Robbe’s pants off, leaving him in only his underwear. Sander couldn’t move. Robbe reached up to hold his hand again, and it succeeded in grounding him. Robbe offered a weak smile.

Sander fell to his knees for the second time that day, only this was of his own accord. He leaned his forearms on the bed by Robbe’s head and didn’t let go of his hand as Milan went to work. He started by using a warm cloth to clean off the blood soaked into the skin of his stomach. He kept dipping the towel back into the bowl of water, the colour turning red as well. Sander suddenly had an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for Milan as he watched his face remain neutral. He gave Sander another wet cloth of his own. “You can do his face and neck.” Sander gently wiped the cloth over the blood on his chin from his cut lip and then onto the side of his face. Robbe weakly turned his head to the side so that Sander could see the gash on his hairline. Sander was extra careful there.

“I’m going to apply some disinfectant cream,” Milan said as he put some on his finger and applied it to the cut. He then placed a bandage over it that covered half of his forehead. He continued to do this over Robbe’s stomach and chest. Milan then moved to the side of the bed and unwrapped Yasmina’s fabric job. The gash was deep, so Milan worked on stitching it. Robbe didn’t even flinch.

Sander closed his eyes, trying to focus. He imagined he was standing in the midst of a snowstorm, Robbe happy and strong at his side. He felt Robbe weakly squeeze his hand. Sander opened his eyes and Robbe’s was looking at him.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered.

“Snow,” Sander replied. “The cottage in the middle of a snowstorm.” He brought his other hand up to palm Robbe’s face with his now-cool skin. “Snow castles.”

Robbe leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling, probably grateful to have a break from the feverishness.

When Milan was done he pulled the comforter up to Robbe’s neck. He gave Sander a glass of water and pills. “These will help with the pain. The ribs have to heal on their own, unfortunately. But you’re going to be okay.”

Sander closed his eyes in relief. He gave himself a second before he opened them again.

“Open up,” Sander said gently. 

Robbe froze, his jaw clenching shut as he began shaking his head. “No more.”

“It’s for the pain-” Milan began.

Robbe’s eyes were teary and exhausted. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” Sander soothed, remembering that Robbe had been kept drugged for the past 48 hours. “Okay, it’s okay.”

“Can you take it from here?” Milan asked, standing up and looking at his phone. “I should go join the others,” He looked back at Sander. “You guys stay holed up here, I’ll keep close contact. But the longer we wait the farther he could go.”

“Yeah,” Sander tried to look okay for Milan’s sake. “You should go.”

Milan hesitated, and then he was reaching inside the pocket of his jeans and taking out the angel pendant. Sander just stared at it and watched him put it on the bedside table. He placed a gentle hand on Sander’s shoulder, and then he raced out of the room.

Sander used his thumb to stroke the top of Robbe’s hand. A dark bruise was forming on his jawline, and a black eye would replace the swelling. He had the comforter up to his neck to hide the rest of the damage. But Sander knew it was there. He might never forget.

Robbe winced as he adjusted. 

Now that they were alone, the silence resumed. Sander had his elbows rested on the bed and he kept bringing Robbe’s hand up to kiss, occasionally resting his forehead against it and closing his eyes. Sander felt his world becoming real again, and it added to the relief of seeing Robbe safe in bed. He had briefly wondered there if he would ever see things clearly again, if the stars would regain meaning, if the water would crash against the shore, or the crackle of a fire could be heard. Robbe watched him the entire time, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut before blinking wide open again.

Sander rested his lips against Robbe’s hand. “Go to sleep.”

Robbe spoke weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you’re feeling bad.”

Sander wondered if there had ever been such an understatement.

“You feel guilty. I can’t stand you feeling guilty over this, Sander,” Robbe was almost delirious from exhaustion, voice weak but intent. “I can’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Okay,” Sander just wanted him to relax. “It’s okay. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. You’re safe.”

Robbe sniffed, and Sander crawled into the bed carefully. He was scared of hurting his ribs, so he sat against the headboard and let Robbe snuggle into his lap. Sander ran a hand through the brunette locks and delicately kissed the top of his head. “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sander’s brain couldn’t seem to catch up to the events of the past few hours. He couldn’t quite believe that Robbe was beside him, forehead wrinkles finally evening out, body slackening, breathing calm. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was a moment he believed his future to be just as Milan and Zoe’s. Broken. 

Which was probably unfair to think. The two were happy now. Better. Stronger because of it. And he was certain he could never quite understand what they’d gone through because Robbe lay with him, alive, in recovery. But he could imagine it, and that was exactly the problem. He couldn’t stop imagining it. What if they had been too late?

It was also seemingly impossible for him to sleep. He wondered how he was ever supposed to fall into a dreamless sleep again, to close his eyes and trust that Robbe would be there when he opened them.

Especially not now. Not when his family was out there hunting Viktor and Robbe was back in his apartment, safe. Not when a few hours ago he wondered if he would ever see the doe eyed boy in his bed again. Not when a few hours ago he had been someone else. 

As Robbe slept off the drug in his system, Sander ran his fingers through Robbe’s hair, a reflex. He had the window in the bedroom ajar and the warm summer wind was making the leaves on the trees rustle. The AM was comfortable and seemed to be an alternate universe that swept the room in a healing atmosphere. It was in the fact that the bedroom was dark but the moon provided a soft glow over Robbe’s peaceful face. And the apartment was quiet but it needed to be so that Robbe could sleep. Sander was frozen, working his body temperature to be a little on the cool side so that Robbe snuggled closer. Everything was still. 

Sander wondered if he should feel something else. Anger for Britt, sure, but she was dead. And he felt nothing. Vengeance for Viktor, maybe, but that belonged to Zoe and Milan. Fear? Of course, because things had come too close, but Robbe was here, and he wasn’t going to let him go. He thanked the moon for the company, because while he was feeling fear and sadness and a weird state of almost-grief, he wasn’t alone. 

It was around 10am when Robbe woke up again. Robbe became very still, his breath hitching, his eyes squeezing tighter, and Sander’s hand stilled in Robbe’s hair.

“It’s me,” Sander spoke quietly in case Robbe was confused, he wasn’t sure how out of it he was the previous night. “We’re in the apartment.”

Robbe immediately untensed, wincing a bit as he repositioned onto his back. He exhaled heavily as Sander moved to lay beside him, facing Robbe on his side. Sander positioned his head on his arm so that he could look down at Robbe’s exhausted, bruised face. Sander couldn’t keep his hands still, so he brought the duvet up higher to Robbe’s neck, then smoothed it out, then gently swept the hair off of Robbe’s forehead. Robbe turned his head slightly to look at Sander, his eyes red and tired and his right eye bruised. His hair was falling limply and sweaty, and Sander made a mental note to help him into the bath later. The bandage on his head was still white, but there was a ghost of a smile there on Robbe’s face, and Sander felt relief crashing down onto him that he was still able to do that. 

“Hi,” Robbe croaked. “I missed you.”

Sander’s entire being ached. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against Robbe’s shoulder, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. Robbe brought one of his hands out from under the duvet to hug Sander’s head closer. Sander felt stupid considering Robbe was the one looking so beat up and yet, he was comforting Sander. But god, the relief was all-consuming.

“What do you need?” Sander lifted his head back up. He traced a finger beside the bruise on Robbe’s jaw.

Robbe was looking at Sander like it was the first time he was seeing him. “Just you.”

Sander really had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to paint over every bruise, every cut and wound. He wanted to go back to the moment Robbe left his apartment after their fight, and grab his hand, and tell him to skip the exam, and lay down in bed and disappear. Above all of this, Sander wanted to apologize. It was sitting heavy on his chest. He wanted to say sorry, that this was all his fault, that if he could have taken his place, he would have. And Robbe was looking at him, warm eyes and a slight purse of his lip, like he knew everything Sander was thinking. Sander tried to hide what he was feeling, but some of Robbe must have rubbed off on him, because he knew he wasn’t hiding a damn thing.

“I would do it all again,” Robbe surprised him by saying. “If it means you and your family get to be safe. So please stop simmering.”

“I’m not simmering,” Sander lied with a twitch of his cheek. “I’m just sorry.” There. He said it.

“Apology not accepted,” Robbe looked at Sander seriously. “Nothing here is your fault.”

“Robbe, she said it herself. This was because of-”

“Sander, I’m wounded,” Robbe cut him off. “I get to decide who’s fault this was. Not you.”

Sander couldn’t believe he was able to joke at a time like this, but it still allowed Sander to relax into the pillow a little more. 

“How are you feeling?” Sander asked. “And no sugar-coating.”

Robbe’s eyes wandered to the ceiling. He was very still, and Sander already had his answer. “Bit stiff.”

“That’s sugar-coating.”

“I’ll feel better when the rest of the clan is back.”

Sander nodded. There was also that. 

“How are you feeling?” Robbe asked next. “No sugar-coating.”

“Awful.” Sander answered honestly. “Brain’s a mess.”

“That’s okay,” Robbe said so softly and with so much understanding. Then, his eyes wandered from Sander’s face to where his hand was resting on the duvet, and his lips parted in concern.

“Your hands-” Robbe brought his hands out from the covers to wrap Sander’s hand in his. Sander lifted the other one, and Robbe grabbed it before he could stop him, protectively covering and examining that one as well. “We need to bandage them.”

“They’ll heal soon,” Sander said softly.

“What happened?” Robbe asked.

“Not now,” Sander shook his head, unable to stop the memory from crossing over his eyes, his hands pounding into pavement over and over again, blind rage and sheer panic. “Please, Robbe.”

Robbe tore his eyes away from Sander’s hands to look him in the eye again. Sander tried for a weak smile that probably looked more like a grimace, and Robbe just kissed his hands in return, completely understanding. 

Sander changed the topic. “You must be hungry.”

Robbe shrugged. “I mean, the room service was shit.”

“Robbe.”

“Sander.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

\----

Everything hurt, but Robbe could deal with it now. He could always deal with physical pain quite well, but especially when it paled in comparison to his jumbled mess of a brain.

Sander was making him soup in the kitchen, and Robbe was still laying stiffly in bed. There were very few positions that felt good with broken ribs. He was on his back, the duvet tucked to his neck and his entire body throbbing. But the thought of taking more drugs after the last ones were finally out of his system was terrifying and definitely the last thing he wanted to do.

Above all of this, and he was trying to go a little easy on himself considering the past 48 hours (which he still couldn’t believe were only 48 hours), there was a need for Sander to be near him. A bubble of panic sat somewhere near his throat, and it seemed to pulse larger every time his brain flashed back to the hazy panic of seeing Sander on his knees in front of Britt. He also couldn’t quite believe they were here now, the other fumbling around in the kitchen, alive, relieved. Robbe had to keep biting the inside of his cheek to remind himself that this was real, and it was happening.

Robbe wanted to stay awake and just exist with Sander in reality, which was so much easier to do with his hands on Sander’s skin, but the pain mixed with how drowsy and weak his blood loss had made him was the perfect storm to send him to rest.

It was because of this that he fell asleep while Sander was making the soup and only jumped awake when he felt the bed dip beside him.

“Shh,” Sander assured calmly. “It’s me.”

Robbe was grateful Sander knew him so well. He was grateful for the reassurances. Every time he opened his eyes, he couldn’t quite be sure where he was for about five seconds.

“Do you want to keep sleeping?” Sander asked, the soup sitting on the bedside table.

Robbe’s stomach turned at the sight of it. He had gone so long without eating that even just the smell caused him conflicting feelings. He shook his head. “I should eat.”

Sander helped him sit up, but the white-hot pain that shot to his ribs was enough to have his breath hitching. Instead, Sander took the pillow from his side of the bed and placed it behind Robbe’s head so that he was still laying down but his head was elevated. Sander sat the bowl in his lap and stirred it with the spoon.

Robbe opened his mouth with a twitch of his lips.

Sander finally let a small smile form on his lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. Robbe knew he was suffering just as much. Sander fed Robbe spoonfuls of soup in silence, and Robbe was grateful his stomach was handling it well after being empty as long as it was.

Robbe couldn’t take his eyes off of Sander once again, watching how careful he was with the spoonfuls, his concentration to make sure the hot liquid didn’t spill. Robbe existed in this weird, awed daze, because Sander was here. He was right there, and he wasn’t a hallucination. They were here. They were okay. They could be more than okay. He hadn’t realized the soup was finished until Sander was placing the empty bowl back on the bedside table and holding his hand.

Robbe felt all care for the pain in his ribs disappear as Sander laid down beside him and Robbe turned on his side to let himself be held. Robbe buried his face into Sander’s neck, inhaling the smell of warm vanilla and coffee beans and home. Sander held him gently, but with a fierceness that spoke more than words. Words that said _we will heal from this together._

Sander exhaled a shaky breath next to Robbe’s ear, and Robbe buried his face deeper. He didn’t need pain medication. This was it.

Sander started humming in Robbe’s ear, a soft, gentle sound that made Robbe’s body feel heavier with comfort. 

Robbe fell asleep again and he must have been out for several hours, because when he woke up he was on his opposite side and Sander spooning him from the back, Sander’s arm around Robbe’s chest. Sander was placing gentle kisses on the back of Robbe’s neck, his lips pressing into the skin for several seconds before trailing his nose over top. Sander must have noticed the goosebumps that formed, because he brought his hand up to run his fingers through Robbe’s greasy hair. 

“Any news?” Robbe croaked out, voice heavy with sleep. 

Sander hummed. “Milan texted to say they’re okay, they think they’re closing in on him. But not yet.”

Robbe nodded, worry knotting up his stomach after days of untangling. Sander must have noticed the way he stilled, because he was placing another kiss on his back.

“Bath?” Sander spoke into the skin. “I’ll join you.”

Robbe’s heart leaped at the last part of the sentence, so he agreed.

Sander helped Robbe fully sit up, and then he was darting to the bathroom to fill the tub. Robbe worked on stretching his limbs as best as he could, slow and steady with his aches and pains. His eyes roamed to the stitched skin on his arm, and he tried his best not to remember the way the cool metal had so easily cut into him, but it was hard. He closed his eyes and let his legs hang over the side of the bed. _Sander was in the bathroom drawing up a bath. Robbe was in Sander’s apartment. They were both safe._ He had to keep repeating it to himself.

Robbe slowly walked over to the bathroom, needing to stretch his legs. Walking hurt but it wasn’t unbearable, though he definitely wouldn’t be running any time soon. He felt like an old man. 

Sander turned off the taps as Robbe stood in the doorway, and Sander looked ready to say something at the fact that Robbe was walking but he quickly shut his mouth and seemed to think better of it. Instead, Sander helped Robbe get his shirt off.

“We should take the bandages off?” Robbe suggested when Sander was staring a little too long at Robbe’s chest.

Sander nodded, and Robbe helped him carefully peel the bandages from his chest, his stomach, his hip bones. Then finally, the bigger bandage on the side of his face that stretched up his forehead. 

Robbe was turning to face the bath when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He really was a mess, his black eye looking almost purple, the left side of his jaw dark blue, the little cuts on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He couldn’t stop staring, actually, at how the cuts on his chest almost blended into his old adrenaline chasing scars. Sander gently placed a hand on Robbe’s back, and it brought him back to the surface, gave him room to breathe.

Sander helped Robbe get into the bath, and then Sander was stripping down himself. He had added lots of bubbles, so the mess of his chest disappeared in the water. Sander had also placed a cup on the side of the tub.

They took their seats facing each other, legs crossed and knees touching. Robbe noted Sander’s dark eyes, his hair falling flatly on his head. Most prominent was how sad he looked. Robbe imagined that Sander was just as exhausted as he was.

Robbe found one of Sander’s hands in the water and held it in both of his hands. He brought it up to his lips and placed a kiss there, and Sander just watched him. Robbe rested the hand in his lap, refusing to let go.

It was interesting. Robbe wanted Sander to talk about what he was feeling, but he quickly realized there wasn’t much to say. Robbe knew what Sander was feeling because it was exactly what Robbe was feeling. Fear, relief, exhaustion. Memories of the 48 eight hours in constant replay in the back of their heads. How close it had come. The energy that connected the two of them screaming at them to stay close, to hold each other and be touching and healing and reconnecting what almost snapped in half. 

Sometimes they had to let the pull do the talking. And the pull was telling them to speak with touch.

So Sander picked up the cup and filled it with water. Robbe closed his eyes as Sander slowly poured it over his head. Sander then dabbed some shampoo into the palm of his hand and gently massaged it into Robbe’s scalp. Robbe couldn’t help the moan that escaped at the feeling, and Robbe recognized a quiet chuckle coming out of Sander as he continued to massage Robbe’s head for several minutes. Robbe pouted when Sander stopped, so he kept going. 

“Sander?” Robbe asked, eyes still shut.

“Mm?” Sander replied, moving his hands to scratch at Robbe’s scalp near his nape. 

“Can you tell me what happened to your hands now?”

Those hands stilled in his hair, but Robbe couldn’t find it in him to regret the question. He needed to know, needed it to all be laid out on the table. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Robbe’s eyes opened at that, some shampoo falling dangerously close to his eye, so Sander paused his massaging to thumb it off of his eyebrow. Robbe kept looking at him through red rimmed eyes. “When?”

“When she sent the first video.”

Robbe flinched, but said nothing else. They sat in this for a moment, but again, Sander got restless, so he rinsed the shampoo out of Robbe’s hair and worked on getting any remnants out. Robbe went back to holding Sander’s other hand in his lap, a hand that was so familiar, even if slightly banged up. When Sander was finished he slicked Robbe’s wet hair back and out of his face, and Robbe kissed Sander’s hand again. Sander let his other hand fall back into the water, and he rested it on Robbe’s thigh, trailing his fingers over the skin. Robbe imagined Sander reacting to the video, far angrier than Robbe had ever seen him, had ever come close to seeing him. He thought about Britt’s taunting ways and how she may have lost, but she was still lingering in everything they did.

“Who killed her?” Robbe asked. “It’s all a bit… blurry.” He needed to hear it for himself.

“Noor and Lola,” Sander was watching his own finger trace Robbe’s thigh, using concentration to try to hide the clear pain he was in. 

Robbe felt a strange wave of relief that it wasn’t Sander. Not that it would have made much a difference, but Robbe knew how heavy death weighed on Sander’s conscience. It would have felt like, in a rather fucked up way, that Britt had won if Sander had been the one to kill her. Like she had tainted their lives just a little bit more.

“I think she was very lonely,” Robbe whispered, finally voicing all he was feeling. “Her and… Viktor.”

Sander met his eyes, his jaw clenched. “I don’t feel bad for them.”

“You don’t have to,” Robbe said gently. “It’s over now.”

“Do you?” Sander asked.

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because loneliness is the slowest death of all.”

Robbe watched that resonate on Sander’s face. His green eyes looked far away, like he was looking at Robbe but not quite seeing him. And Robbe saw the exact moment that changed, as if something shifted inside of him. Sander didn’t need to feel the same as Robbe did, but Robbe couldn’t find it in himself to feel differently. Maybe it was a way of coping after all they did to him, or the side of him that was just a little too empathic, but either way. He supposed none of it mattered now.

“I love you,” Sander understood.

“I love you too.” Robbe replied.

Sander helped him out of the bath some time later, and Robbe needed a break from the bedroom, so he took up space on the couch in the living room, his hair drying while Sander made a pot of coffee in the kitchen. The sun was setting, casting the apartment in a pink glow. Robbe felt sleepy again but he noted Sander’s dark circles and quietness and wanted to stay awake because Sander was staying awake. Robbe knew Sander wouldn’t be sleeping until Viktor was dead.

Robbe’s eyes wandered to the record player in the corner of the room. He had an idea. He slowly got off of the couch and hobbled to the player in the corner. There was already a record in, and Robbe didn’t have the energy to bend down and find something else, so he turned the knobble and waited for the record to start turning. Robbe turned up the volume just as Sander was walking back into the living room holding a mug of coffee.

The song was _“Too Late To Turn Back Now”_ by Cornelius Brothers & Sister Rose. It was upbeat, and while Robbe thought maybe it was too upbeat for the occasion, he supposed it was exactly what they needed right now. Sander had always used music to feel better.

Robbe took Sander’s mug and placed it on the coffee table. Sander just watched as Robbe wrapped his arms around Sander’s middle with a teasing smile on his face, jokingly moving his head back and forth with the music. If he moved his body too much he might die, and Sander couldn’t hide the amused look on his face. 

“Fitting for the occasion,” Sander muttered, wrapping his arms around Robbe’s shoulders and looking down at him.

“Thank you,” Robbe replied. “I picked carefully.”

Robbe took a step back and lifted Sander’s arm above their heads, motioning for him to spin around. Sander playfully rolled his eyes and spun around, coming back to hold Robbe again. 

“I’m the spinner,” Sander mock-pouted. “You’re the spinn-ee.”

“Not today,” Robbe said. “Considering I can barely move.”

Sander’s face fell again and Robbe regretted the joke immediately. Robbe kept accidentally stepping on Sander’s feet, and they resumed a slower sway as the apartment grew dark around them. Sander rested his cheek on the side of Robbe’s head, and Robbe closed his eyes, squeezing Sander’s middle tighter. Robbe imagined the happiness he was feeling wouldn’t last long. He knew what he had gone through would surely hit him like a truck emotionally, but right now, as they stayed holed up in the apartment, it felt like they were in some strange universe where time didn’t exist, the record ending and resorted to filling the room with static. Only Robbe and Sander, away from the world that had almost killed them. 

Sander’s phone ringing surprised them out of their trance. Sander fumbled for the answer button, and Robbe turned off the record player, the room becoming eerily quiet. Robbe hobbled back over to the couch and winced as he sat down.

Sander was standing beside the couch, and he put the phone on speaker, knowing that Robbe would want to hear. “Okay, and everyone is fine?”

“Yeah yeah,” Milan answered. “Zoe did the honours.”

Robbe looked up at Sander and mouthed, “He’s dead?”

Sander nodded.

Robbe felt the relief wash over him. Again, it almost took him out. He leaned back against the couch and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding since they got back to the apartment. It was over. It was really over. And yet, there were a hundred emotions bubbling in his throat that were far from happiness.

“We’re going to head home soon,” Milan said. “I’ll stop by your place in a day or so. Okay?”

Sander’s jaw was clenched as he answered. “Okay.”

“Love you both. See you soon.”

Sander hung up. 

Sander stood there for a very long time. Frozen. Staring at the far wall. Robbe let him have his moment. But eventually, Robbe reached up and gently grabbed hold of his hand. Sander seemed to snap out of it as he let himself be guided to sit down beside Robbe on the couch. Robbe instinctively wrapped his arms around Sander and pulled him into his chest. He wasn’t sure the reaction they were supposed to have to something like this, because celebrating didn’t feel like the right thing to do. Instead, there was just this. Sander seemed to shatter as he let out a noise that sounded like something between a whimper and a sob. Robbe held him tighter as he, too, felt tears begin to leak down his cheeks.

They were tears of relief. Of sadness. Of anger. Of endings. And maybe beginnings, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good GOD.
> 
> hi.... whew. i got an ask that said "this chapter better end in cuddles to make up for the cliffhanger" so..... you got your wish? kinda? yes?
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this! we're nearing the end. next chapter is basically the last.... and chapter 7 is a fluffy epilogue. i am very emotional about this but.... so, so happy with how it's turning out. thank you all for reading!
> 
> we made an instagram! i definitely need to make a master post of all things pmit.... so stay tuned for that :)
> 
> as usual, thank you so so much to my friend's for all of the help with this. to emma for putting so much of her heart and soul into this, for spending her free time editing, for the endless amount of ideas. to eddi, for continuing to come up with amazing visuals/graphics/being such a huge support. i love you both with my whole heart.
> 
> TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bem672rSxhE
> 
> GIFSETS: 
> 
> https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/619878235257389056/paint-me-in-trust-by-themoongirl-updates-every
> 
> https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/620385211079884800/paint-me-in-trust-chapter-four-favorite-quotes
> 
> INSTAGRAM:@paintme.intrust
> 
> A LOOK AT SANDER'S INSTAGRAM: https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/620598177677099008/paint-me-in-trust-by-dearsander-official
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe
> 
> emma's tumblr:  
> lolahydri
> 
> eddi's tumblr:  
> sekoui


	6. died in your arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings:
> 
> \- panic attacks

Milan once told Sander that healing wasn’t an overnight process, and it wasn’t a linear battle either. Healing wasn’t a dive into the deep end, a smooth, gentle glide to standing on your own two feet. Healing comes in waves. Ferocious and inescapable, but also forgiving and light. Sander had tread within his words, had understood to a degree what he meant back then when he couldn’t quite believe that things would be okay. But now he was face to face with a different kind of healing, one that had to do with survival. Survival. Sander wanted to live. The irony between the two greatest issues he had faced was, well, it wasn’t laughable, but he hoped one day it might be. For now, it was just exhausting.

Sander still hadn’t slept, even following the news that Viktor was dead. Robbe tried to stay awake for him, bless his heart, but it was not an easy feat. After hours of clutching each other with red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, Sander thought maybe sleep was around the corner. But after carrying Robbe to bed, and Robbe curling around Sander like a koala, Sander remained awake. The world continued to tilt, nothing just- nothing felt right. Or, it all felt… slightly off. Sander craved normalcy, for things to return to as they were. But what if they didn’t? And how could they? Viktor’s death didn’t do much to lessen the weight on Sander’s shoulders, only gave Sander a little more strength to bear it.

The what-ifs had been hanging over Sander’s head long before he had met Robbe. What if he fell in love, and what if he lost them? That fear only doubled when Sander first felt that wonderful rope around his neck, tugging in the direction of _him_. Since then, it’s as if they’ve been dancing on the edge of a plank, always seconds away from meeting that greatest fear, from falling into a deep end too dark to come back from. And they were pushed off the edge of the plank. And they did come back from it. They were forced to face the thing that was always heavy in the back of Sander’s head, the elephant in the room, in his life. But as it goes, coming back from something like that doesn’t lessen the fear of it happening again. And that’s exactly what Sander couldn’t stop thinking about. 

With a gentle kiss to Robbe’s forehead, Sander got out of bed sometime in the morning, needing his comfort drink to distract from these ongoing thoughts. Absolute terrible timing at that, because as Sander was staring a little too hard at the dark liquid streaming into the mug, eyes dazed and bowed, he heard Robbe’s heavy breathing start from the other room. The feeling was similar to a switch being turned on his head, because he was sprinting to the bedroom in two seconds flat to find Robbe, brown eyes bulging and not-quite-there, sitting up pin straight and clutching the sheets in his shaking hands.

“I’m here,” Sander threw himself beside Robbe, holding his face gently. The bruises there showed no sign of reprieve, but they were healing. At least the physical aspects of healing were usually linear. “I was just in the kitchen.”

Robbe’s chest continued to rise and fall at a worrying pace, but Sander just kept looking at him. “Look at me, hey. I’m right here.”

Robbe nodded, a shaky exhale wracking the rest of his body. “I’m okay, really, I’m fine-”

“You don’t have to be,” Sander’s heart cracked for what felt like the hundredth time that week. “But I think we have to get that fixed,” Sander nodded to the dented angel pendant on the side table. “Protection.”

Sanders thumbs softly stroked Robbe’s cheeks, and Robbe nodded against them. They sat like this for many minutes, again, as they had done multiple times since Robbe had gotten home. Coming down from it together. Words an impossibility when things felt as bad as this. Sander held Robbe’s face for comfort and for his own sanity too. Robbe just took it, breathing, thinking, _healing._ Healing. 

“What temperature?” Sander asked.

“You. Just you.”

Sander’s lips twitched into a smile, still so unbelievably in awe that he got to share these parts of himself with Robbe. That Robbe wanted him, just as he was, that he was here. Even after everything. 

“Did you sleep?” Robbe asked, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against Sander’s.

Sander shook his head, feeling the exhaustion with every movement.

“Talk to me,” Robbe said, a hand squeezing Sander’s thigh. Sander continued to stroke Robbe’s cheek bones, to hold his face for dear life, their foreheads pressed together in much needed connection. 

“I’m still scared,” Sander said honestly, letting his eyes shut as well. The weight on his chest lessened a tiny bit more having said it aloud. “I just can’t shake this- this feeling.”

“I know,” Robbe whispered. 

“I feel like if I close my eyes you’re going to disappear.”

“I won’t,” Robbe squeezed his thigh harder. “But I feel the same.”

“I don’t know how to move past this,” Sander’s voice caught in his throat. “I really don’t.”

“Together,” Robbe nudged his nose closer to Sander’s, and the movement made Sander open his eyes. Robbe looked at him, his eyes reflecting everything he was feeling. “And we lean on our friends… family.”

Sander thumbed over the bruise on Robbe’s eye, barely brushing, but allowing himself to nonetheless. 

“You didn’t do this,” Robbe read his mind. “Remember?”

“Because you get to decide whose fault it is.”

“Yes,” Robbe had a half smile forming on his face. “And I would put you last on the list.”

This was usually where Sander would wonder how Robbe always knew the right thing to say, but he was actually getting used to it. Robbe was always so good at knowing what to say to Sander, so good with reading Sander’s face and mind and heart, and the mere thought of Robbe and his solace was another bucket full of burdens being dumped from Sander’s chest. He hadn’t realized how important it was to have someone who understands you, how you react and handle these moments when it feels like the world is burning. When your brain is nothing but _thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and more thoughts._

“I think we should invite the others to come over,” Robbe said. “I think it’ll help.”

“Yeah?” Sander reaffirmed. “You’re up for that?”

“I am,” Robbe said, eyes so soft they didn’t match the cuts and bruises on his body. “I want to see them too.”

Sander nodded. “I’ll let them know.”

That’s how, some hours later, Sander’s apartment ended up bombarded by five extra vampires. Family. His family. Their family. And no one talked about it, but they all ended up in the bedroom surrounding the bed, sitting on the ends, pulling up chairs, and talking mindlessly with smiles on their faces. It was a relief that they weren’t asking too many questions, or acting too solemn and quiet, because the sudden burst of energy and good moods filling the space was akin to getting into bed at the end of a long day. And Sander knew Robbe was grateful as well, because Robbe had never been about attention. 

They all wore remnants of distress on their faces, visible in their ghostly eyes and rather slow movements. But they were them. Rambunctious, a little internally bumped and bruised, but them all the same. 

“Okay,” Noor tossed a deck of cards into the centre of the bed just as Sander crawled into it, knee touching Robbe’s and giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. “I vote crazy eights. I dare you to suggest a game better than that.”

“Spoons.” Lola said, deadpan.

“Spoons?” Noor bickered back. “Look at him,” She gestured to Robbe, who was watching them with an amused look on his face, although his head was resting against Sander’s shoulder. “He can barely bend over, let alone fight us off.”

“Spoons?” Robbe repeated what she said. “I’ve never played.”

Noor’s eyes almost bulged out of her head, but the others were laughing at his question. Milan grabbed the deck and started shuffling at a speedy pace, shaking his head in mock dismay. “You set up spoons in a line in front of us, and then- listen, I won’t go into detail because we are _not_ playing it, but essentially when you get four of the same card you have to grab a spoon… and then everyone else has to grab a spoon… and it gets aggressive.”

“Let alone the fact that he’s human-” Zoe spoke up from the end of the bed, Yasmina nodding beside her with a smirk on her face. 

“He’s human?” Lola mocked, eyes wide and a hand over her chest. “Since when?”

“I’m just saying! He’d be slower than the rest of us!” Zoe just laughed.

“Can we pick a game for the love of God,” Milan started dealing out cards like it was no one’s business. “Crazy eights. You’re welcome, Noor.”

“Victory,” Noor said as she picked up her cards. “Feels pretty good.”

Sander just watched. He lost the first round by a long shot because he was less focused on the deck in his hand and more on the people around him. Noor’s bellowing laugh every time she got close to winning, Milan’s ability to make anything a serious competition. Lola’s relaxed position, sitting on the dining room chair she had pulled up and legs crossed on the bed, her cocky hand movements when she won. How Zoe kept sneaking kisses to Yasmina’s shoulder, and Yasmina looked endeared every single time, how Robbe fit in so damn well. And Sander had known this since the cottage trip, of course Robbe fit in. He was absolutely meant to be a part of this family, just as they all were. But after the events of the past week, Sander couldn’t stop staring. How Robbe was so visibly exhausted, his head practically dead weight against Sander’s shoulder, occasionally burying his face closer into Sander’s neck when he needed a quick break. The way the others noticed, but didn’t speak on it, when Robbe stopped playing in favour of just watching, his eyes half open but a relaxed smile playing on his lips. Sander believed this to be his fault, how Robbe was in danger just by knowing Sander, and yet, there was this. This moment which never would have existed without the timeline of events. 

How, amidst all of this, Sander found himself growing tired as well. In a different way, since he had spent the better part of the past week feeling like a true, barely-alive vampire. There was something inside of him that was being put to rest. Resting with every possibility of being awoken once more. Healing, but not fully. 

Again, they didn’t talk about it, but when Sanders eyes shut for just a moment, only to spring open, the cards were put away. Noor, Lola and Milan bickered about where they were going to set up camp in the living room, and Yasmina and Zoe just rolled their eyes and followed. He knew it was more than vampire senses that told them what to do. They just knew, as family always does.

Sander found himself subconsciously settling into the bed, turned on his side to face Robbe, keeping him a blink away, eyes so heavy he could barely keep them open. Concern took a brief stab at the back of his brain, but then Robbe was smoothing his hair back from where he was laying on his back, one arm over the top of the pillows to reach over. Sander sighed at the feeling.

“Go to sleep,” Robbe whispered. “We’re all here.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” Sander voiced his concern. 

“You told me certain things have the power to make you sleepy,” Robbe said. “Surely this is one of them.”

Sander hummed. He was fading. “Yeah… yeah.”

And while he was close to sleep, it did take a little while longer for a vampire, the process of falling and actually succumbing to sleep much longer than for humans, so he sat in that feeling. Simply existing in the space before and after. Robbe’s hand threading through his scalp, the open-window causing the curtains to blow in the breeze, the low voices in the other room. He was so close, and then-

Footsteps trickled into the room. Sander was too exhausted to open his eyes and too relaxed to attempt conversation, so he pretended. He let his body go very still, focused on getting his breathing even, and Robbe’s hand stilled in his hair.

“Is he asleep?” He recognized Zoe’s voice.

“I think so,” Robbe replied, just above a whisper. “Finally.”

Sander heard shuffling and the slight dip of the bed beside Robbe. He could feel Zoe’s eyes on him.

“Good,” Zoe said. “He needs it.”

“Probably because you’re all here,” Robbe replied. “It’s not like I could do anything if something happened while he was sleeping.”

“By the sounds of it, you held your ground on your own,” Zoe said seriously. “And I don’t think that’s entirely why he wasn’t sleeping. I think he just needed to see that everything was going to return to normal. He likes normal, as you know. Complete opposite of Noor and Lola.”

“Wait,” Robbe sounded confused. “I don’t think I ‘held my ground’, I-”

“You did. Viktor told us,” Zoe sighed, and that was almost enough for Sander to spring his eyes open, but he stopped himself. It sounded like a conversation for Robbe and Robbe alone.

“He… he what?” Robbe asked, sounding shocked but poorly containing it.

Zoe let out a long exhale, a slight catch in her throat. “He said you attempted to get him to let you go, by saying that if he surrendered we would take him in. He was playing with us, trying to see if we actually would.”

“I’m sorry,” Robbe said. “I was just trying to get a read on him.”

“You were right though,” Zoe said with a hint of self-loathing. “Even after all he did, even as I stared him in the face and saw- saw Senne. I almost couldn’t do it. If he surrendered, I think I would have let him.”

“And Milan would have too, wouldn’t he?”

“He would.”

“So what happened?”

“He tried to run again,” Zoe sighed. “I think he just wanted… answers… if we would truly accept him after everything he’s done. I was standing the closest to him, and I no longer saw Senne in him. I just saw Viktor. So I- yeah.”

Sander heard movement, the sound of skin on skin, Robbe holding her hand, or stroking her arm, just comforting. He was always so good at that. “He made his choice. He was never going to change.”

“So why,” Zoe sounded more upset. “After all he did, was I willing to give him a second chance? What if we had and then something happened again-”

“Because you’re a good person, Zoe,” Robbe’s voice was gentle. “Because you’re not like him. None of you are. That’s something to be proud of.”

It was silent for a few moments, and it gave Sander time to process. On one hand, Robbe was an angel. Always had been, but it was just hitting Sander a little harder as he listened. Second, he was right. There were worse games to play, worse people to be. 

“Did he say anything?” Zoe broke the silence. “About Senne, I mean.”

Robbe shifted, and the hand in Sander’s hair started threading again. “He couldn’t say his name.”

“Oh.”

“He said he didn’t love him, and that he did what he had to do.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t.”

“I don’t either.” Zoe said firmly. “Not that it matters now. Parents can really fuck you up, can’t they?”

Sander thought about his own parents. He thought about how, to this day, it was hard to remember faces in detail when it came to most people. He could no longer envision his friend Lotte in high school, his doctors, the man who sold him records at the music store. They were all blurry faces. But his parents- he could remember every detail. Moreso, their voices. Every sharp edge to his father’s words slicing into him, every quiet whisper from his mother. Lucid, crystal clear voices in his head. Yeah, they could fuck you up. But-

“Sometimes,” Robbe answered. “And sometimes we make our own choices, like Senne did.”

“I miss him,” Zoe whispered, heavy with emotion. “But- I think he would forgive me, for... for doing what I did yesterday.” 

“He would have, Zoe,” Robbe whispered. “He’d be proud of you for almost giving him another chance, like he did. But fool you once.”

“And you’re here,” Zoe said. “It could have been a lot worse.”

Sander’s chest seized up, and he almost blew his cover for the second time. It could have been a lot worse. A lot, lot worse. Him and Zoe could be having a similar conversation right now, without Robbe laying beside him. It was the thought Sander couldn’t seem to shake.

“How do we move past that?” Robbe asked, voice barely heard. “That… possibility that… we could lose each other…-”

“You don’t,” Zoe answered. “Unfortunately it will always be there. Even as immortals… nothing is promised. Not one moment. _Everything has its wonder, even darkness and silence… and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content._ "

“Helen Keller?” Robbe asked, the tension lessening at the laugh in his tone.

“Yes,” Zoe chuckled, and the sound had the ache in Sander’s chest easing. “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Robbe replied slowly. “I think I do.”

“One day all of this will be gone,” Zoe said. “Even us.”

“For now there’s only this.”

“And what a great thing to have.”

And with that, Sander fell into a dreamless, content sleep.

When Sander woke up the next morning, it was like he had swapped places with Robbe. There was an initial bone-deep panic when he woke up facing the outside of the bed, eyes opening to see the wall and not Robbe’s sleeping face, and he abruptly sat up to find- Robbe asleep. Safe. Protected. It took several moments for him to calm down, resting his head between his knees and breathing deeply, shaky hands clasping together. The remnants of the conversation he had spied on were deteriorating, but he tried to gain back that feeling, even though in the moment, he could only feel fear. Healing was definitely not linear, not even close, he had to keep reminding himself. It was a ragged path tripping him up whenever he felt any semblance of peace. Regardless, he did feel a bit better on the physical sense. The sleep was needed; he just wished he didn’t feel so scared every time he let himself go. Robbe was very much dead to the world, his relaxed face and slight twitch of his cheek the only things keeping Sander from feeling worried. The rest of the apartment was rather quiet, so Sander hoisted himself out of bed to see what he had missed.

When he sauntered into the living room, rubbing his sleepy eyes and trying to gauge his surroundings, he was met with only Milan. Milan, walking out of the kitchen holding two mugs of coffee, and Sander could have kissed him.

“I heard you having a crisis,” Milan said as he handed Sander one of the mugs. “Better?”

“Now that I have this, yes,” Sander took a sip and felt that familiar comfort flow through his body. “Thank you.”

“The others left to let you sleep, but I’m going to do a quick check on the banged up boy in the bed,” Milan said as he set his coffee down on the dining table and walked to the bedroom.

Sander followed him, grateful for the more professional-look at Robbe’s injuries. Sander leaned against the bedroom archway and watched as Milan sat next to a sleeping Robbe, on his back to avoid any pressure on his ribs, his head slightly turned to the side. Milan had his professional face on as he placed the gentlest of hands onto Robbe’s forehead, pushing back soft curls and smiling a bit at the slight crinkle of Robbe’s nose reacting to the cold touch. Milan then quietly lifted the comforter to inspect the unbandaged wounds on his stomach and chest. Sander watched Milan watch Robbe, looking for any sign of worry or doubt, and he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until Milan did one last look at the gash on Robbe’s head before standing up with a slow exhale. 

Milan joined Sander by the doorway. They both watched Robbe sleep for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest, and Sander couldn’t help but voice yet another concern. 

“He’s sleeping so much,” Sander said quietly. 

“It’s normal,” Milan answered, smiling weakly at him. “He lost a lot of blood. Come.”

Milan started walking towards the balcony and Sander just watched him. Milan frowned, picking his coffee back up. “Come on, he’ll be okay for a minute. You should get some air.”

Sander knew he was right. The ice in his throat was melting but hell, if it wasn’t still very prevalent. But. This was their apartment. Viktor was dead. Britt was dead. So with one last look at Robbe, Sander followed Milan out onto the balcony.

It was a warm day, the summer greeting them with an ironic hello. A direct contrast to what Sander felt going on inside of him. A bird sang a song from somewhere above him, some children screamed as their parents followed behind them down the street, and Sander briefly wondered what he would be doing had he never killed Britt’s mother all those years ago. He wondered about the butterfly theory of time and how every decision leads to something different, how in another parallel universe, he could be dead. Or running to spend a day at the beach. Or human.

Milan rubbed Sander’s back as he leaned his one elbow on the balcony ledge. “He’s going to be okay.”

Sander stared, frozen, not entirely seeing the view in front of him. He had one burning question. It had always been in the back of his mind, and while he had always kept it to himself for fear of offending, he felt it was fitting for the occasion.

“How did you survive it?” Sander asked, knowing that Milan would understand.

Milan took a brief moment to follow a plane flying overhead with his eyes. Then, he said with a tone far too wise beyond anyone’s years: “I did and didn’t.” And then quieter, “I think… there’s a part of me that died. A part I will never get back.”

Sander nodded, trying to process that. It was all the confirmation he needed to say next: “I wouldn’t have been strong enough to deal with it,” Sander told him. “I just know.”

Milan tensed up, as Milan always tensed up when anyone in their family talked about dying. It was an unspoken agreement within their group to be conscious of the topic, given what Milan and Zoe had been through. Of course, Sander used to talk about dying as one would the morning news, or their favourite TV show. But then again, back then it wasn’t a sore spot. Back then, Ivan was alive and Senne, and no one had known true loss except for their human lives. Now, Milan protected his family fiercely, a post-traumatic reflex. 

“Sander, when you fear something so much, something that hasn’t happened, it’s as if you’re living that stress over and over again. Your body doesn’t know the difference between actuality and possibility.”

Sander clenched his jaw. He’s never been good at that. Not worrying. He’s always worried. About what could happen and what has happened. What might have been and what never was. And it was only continuing. How would he have reacted if he had found Robbe dead? Or if one of the clan members had been killed by Viktor? Again? What if something happens in the future to any of them? What if Robbe doesn’t become a vampire? What if he does? Would Sander have survived Robbe’s death? Would he have been able to get through that? Questions upon questions upon questions, just over and over again. But just as Zoe said last night to Robbe, there was only this. This was all that was promised. It was a battle, logic versus comfort, the ability to ease his mind versus focusing on the what-ifs. 

But healing, healing wasn’t without set-backs. 

Milan squeezed Sander’s forearm, anchoring him to the surface above his deepest thoughts. Sander’s knuckles were stark white where he was gripping the side of the balcony ledge, but his hold weakened slightly at the touch.

“Did you ever forgive me?” Milan suddenly asked. “For turning you?”

Sander frowned, the question surprising him as he finally looked at Milan. Milan stared back with curiosity and a flash of hurt in his eyes as if he was fearing the answer. Sander thought back to their vicious fights, to how he had been back then. How he had torn into Milan with his venom-laced words, aiming for the kill shot. Blaming him. Telling him he never should have changed him, that he wanted to die, that he didn’t belong with them and he never would. But that was long ago. Everything was different now. Even as they stood here, the remnants of the past couple of days still sitting heavy in Sander’s throat, he knew things were different.

“There was nothing to forgive, I just needed time to… figure it all out,” Sander answered truthfully. Then, with as much strength as he could muster, years of fights coming to fruition, “I owe you, Milan. It’s an extraordinary life.”

Sander didn’t miss the wave of relief that washed over Milan’s face, as if he had been walking around with that burden heavy on his chest, and Sander’s words set him free. Sander knew now, he realized how important it was to trek through the hard times, to suffer as long as he made it through to the other end. Because in this case, at the other end was Robbe. 

“Where do you think we go when we die?” Sander found himself asking.

Sander watched Milan think about it for quite some time. The summer breeze brushed his hair to the side, a helping hand as he pondered what to say. Sander watched the twitch of his cheek, an almost ghost-like sadness crossed over his pupils, a shaky rise of his chest and then- a relaxed acceptance came over him. “I still see him in every person we turned, you know. Everything we did still lives on in all of you.”

It wasn’t an exact answer, but Sander knew what he meant. They would never have an answer. 

“Ivan would have loved Robbe,” Sander blurted out. “Wouldn’t he have?”

Milan smiled, and Sander could practically see the memory of Ivan in his eyes, the same red-haired vampire shaking hands with Sander’s doe-eyed soulmate. “I know he would have.”

“I can’t lose him, Milan,” Sander said. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Absolutely not,” Milan said louder, harder, reaffirming. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I-” Sander tried to find the best way to say this. “I didn’t want to turn him before, I wanted- I wanted him to live a life, a whole one, a complete one. But I can’t- I can’t lose him again. Maybe that makes me weak, but-”

“It doesn’t make you weak to love, Sander,” Milan gripped Sander’s shoulders tightly, staring down at him with eyes of heavy emotion. “Love is the whole point to everything. With loss, and without it.”

“Milan?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“Come here.”

Milan and Sander hugged. And they kept hugging for quite some time, hands fisted in shirts and holding on for dear life. Sander couldn’t remember the last time they hugged. They needed to more often. He was going to appreciate all of this more. 

And he could understand it now.

It wasn’t about trapping Robbe in this world.

It was about welcoming him.

“One good thing came from this,” Milan said into the hug. “We get to stay in Antwerp.”

Sander let himself breathe out all of his anxieties into the warm air, setting them free, knowing they would come back but giving himself this. Sometimes you have to hold on to the good things. If he was practicing focusing on the current moment, then yes, that was definitely a good thing. Home wasn’t a place, it was his family. And the time would come for them to leave again, but for now, they were staying in Antwerp. They were going to spend Christmas breaks at the cottage and go to other bar-themed parties and cliff dive. Here and now. Everything else would come later.

Once back inside, serious-Milan was gone and replaced by the all-too-familiar version of him, a shit-eating grin on his face and a finger to his mouth, silently telling Sander to be quiet. Sander, used to his antics, followed him blindly to the bedroom where Milan was sliding into bed, carefully laying his head beside a sleeping Robbe. Sander leaned against the doorway and simply shook his head, watching as Robbe hummed and turned his head at the movement, opening his eyes with a start and jerking back. 

Milan cackled when Robbe’s eyes found Sander’s, and Sander really laughed for the first time in who-knows-how-long.

“Stupid,” Robbe muttered as he rubbed his face.

“I couldn’t _not_ say goodbye to my favourite kisser in years,” Milan joked, propping himself up on his elbow and grinning down at Robbe.

“Favourite?” Robbe pulled the duvet up around his neck and snuggled back into the pillow. “Really?”

“Did I say that?” Milan hummed. “I can’t remember.”

“You did, and I might never forget it,” Robbe nodded towards Sander. “He heard it too.”

“I will also remember that,” Sander snorted, stepping back. “Coffee?” 

“Please,” came Robbe’s tired response, but Milan shook his head.

The apartment was filled with the sounds of the coffee brewing, and Milan making Robbe laugh in the bedroom, and it was the most full Sander had felt in days. They still had a road to recovery, physically and mentally, but _healing wasn’t linear._

Sander wondered how many times Milan would save his life.

Sander wandered back into the bedroom with two cups of coffee, handing one to Robbe and then joining him in bed, sitting up against the bed frame. Milan kissed both of their heads, and then he left the apartment.

Robbe rested his mug over top of the duvet covering his chest, balancing it with both hands. Sander settled into the space beside him, leaning against the headboard and holding his own mug against his knee, a warm feeling in his chest caused from so much more than just the coffee flowing through him. Their bedroom was starting to look like their bedroom again, the coffee more familiar, and Robbe, cheeks pink from the steam of his drink near his face, was Robbe. Banged up, bruised, but his eyes were the same. Soft, almost-hazel eyes from how the light was hitting them, staring up at Sander with a curious tilt of his head.

Robbe blinked. “You look happier.”

Sander nodded, because he felt it. God, it was evident in every crevice of the bedroom, every loud thought in his brain that had been turned down in favour of this soft acceptance, this final decision. But he couldn’t tell Robbe yet, so he just answered with a small: “I am.”

And Robbe took that answer with a slight narrowed eye but chose to accept it nonetheless. “Can you pass me my phone?” Robbe asked sleepily.

Robbe’s phone had been in the backpack that Sander had saved from the biology room, luckily, so Sander got up to grab it before retreating back to the bed. Robbe put his coffee on the bedside table and turned his phone on, and Sander didn’t miss the slight tremor of his hands as the blue light illuminated his face.

“All good?” Sander asked, gulping down the rest of his mug in one quick motion.

“Jens is just-” Robbe shrugged. “Worried. What should I say?”

“Yeah, that’s my bad,” Sander’s gut clenched, remembering those horrible hours of running around campus. “We had called him when you-” Sander couldn’t finish.

Robbe just nodded. “I’ll say I was-”

“You could tell him the truth,” Sander interrupted before he could stop himself. It might have been this newfound high following the conversation with Milan, but he had also been doing some thinking about it. Robbe’s circle was small. Did it matter that much, especially if it put Robbe at ease? “It’s not the worst idea.”

Robbe’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Really?”

“Will he go blabbering?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then tell him,” Sander smiled. “I don’t think you should lose him.” Sander thought Robbe had dealt with enough loss for one lifetime. 

Robbe didn’t hesitate, so Sander knew he had done the right thing. Robbe’s thumbs couldn’t seem to type fast enough, and Sander watched him as he settled his head on the pillow beside him, intertwining their legs and resting his head on Robbe’s shoulder. “I’ll tell him to come over in a few days and I’ll explain,” Robbe said as he typed. “It’s probably not a good bomb to drop in a text.”

When he was finished, he slammed his phone down on the bedside table before lifting his arm to allow Sander to snuggle closer into his side. Gently, of course, without putting pressure on any parts of Robbe’s bruises. The almost drunken happiness had yet to reside, because Robbe reached down and booped his nose. 

“I missed your smile,” He said. “This one. The one that has your left eye practically shut.”

“Don’t make fun of him, he’s fragile.”

“Your left eye?”

“Yes, Robin, be nice.”

Robbe bellowed out a laugh, and Sander’s smile grew. Bullseye. 

“What made you so smiley?” Robbe asked once he was done laughing, a hand coming up to thread through Sander’s pale hair.

Sander thought he would give him some semblance of the truth.

“You know when...,” Sander hesitated as he thought of the best way to say this. “You look back on certain periods of your life, and you think to yourself, wow, I wish I could go back to that time? I wish, for only a few moments, I could live and breathe and exist when all of that was happening. But, when you think a little deeper, you realize, during that time, I wasn’t feeling like that. I was thinking about the future. I was thinking about being in the present time that I’m in now, and now that I’m here, I’m just thinking about the past?”

Robbe listened, and he nodded, as Robbe always did. Never laughing uncomfortably, or waving him off, or half-listening. Always Robbe.

“I just want to be here. This is all I want.” Sander finished.

Sander thought about 1972. He thought about taking pill after pill, and the unexplainable rage he felt that he had been given another chance to live. And looking back, he could still remember that feeling. It might never go away, as those kinds of feelings never do. But when he thought about where he was now, here, with Robbe, the possibility of forever was all he needed. Because right now, there was forever. It didn’t matter if in a day, a week, a month, that was stolen from them. Because right now, it was still their reality. 

“Forever,” Robbe whispered, as if he was reading Sander’s mind. “Forever exists right now.”

“Until it doesn’t.”

“Until it doesn’t, but we don’t have to think about that.”

“We don’t.”

\---

The following couple of days all swirled together, different to the way they had when Robbe was chained inside of a dark, dingy warehouse. Rather, in a peaceful way, a remedial way. Time was told by the golden glow covering them in the morning and the moon greeting them at night, watching over them protectively. A reminder that this too shall pass. 

Robbe’s exercise was the occasional walk to the kitchen when Sander was cooking, a slight hug from behind as Sander fiddled with the frying pan and held a piece of bacon over his shoulder, letting Robbe have a taste before he got tired and hobbled back to bed. There were also more strenuous, more daring acts like, going for a _walk_ to the _balcony_ and _sitting outside._ But Robbe wasn’t complaining; his body would heal. It was a slow process, but he forced himself to assess the bruises every day for the simple pleasure of seeing them change colour. He wondered if Sander had paints of the same shade.

As for his brain, well, that was a different story. 

He would be better off if it weren’t for the nightmares, because those were absolutely uncontrollable. In the day, he had Sander. Sander to hold him tightly, hum in his ear while soothing his hair out of his face, to talk in a low, sweet voice about anything and everything. Sander, who had his fair share of bad days but was still _there_. Present, alive, whether he was speaking or not. In Robbe’s dreams, Sander wasn’t there. Or he was, he was just- worse for wear. Seconds from death. And the feeling of that remained far too long after Robbe woke up in the morning. 

Apart from the nightmares was the ever growing fear that Sander would disappear, as Sander had said himself. But he had to keep repeating what Zoe had said, _for now there was only this._ And then what Sander had said, _forever exists right now._

He was trying. It would all just be a bit more bearable if he wasn’t still drowning in his humanity.

Regardless, as Robbe hobbled over to the couch the day of Jens arrival, he had to push all nagging thoughts aside. Even as he pulled a blanket around him and used his phone camera to attempt to tame his unruly hair and God- what was the point? Jens was going to have a fit either way. It was coming. Oh, it was coming.

He pulled up his text conversation with Jens again, simply to stare at their exchange the past few days.

| _Thursday_ |

 _Robbe:_ hey…. i’m okay, but it’s a long story

 _Jens:_ jesus robbe i almost called the police

 _Jens:_ are u sure ur okay? i was so worried

 _Robbe:_ i’m sorry, i can explain… i’m at sander’s, do u want to come by in a couple of days?

 _Jens:_ yeah… just let me know when

 _Robbe:_ saturday?

 _Jens:_ sure

| _Saturday_ |

 _Robbe:_ hey so… just a warning, don’t freak out when u see me

 _Jens:_ ???????

 _Robbe:_ i’m a lil banged up

 _Jens:_ banged up?????? fuck i’m coming now

 _Robbe:_ see u soon

Robbe was nervous. After facing vampires and vampire hunters alike, a single human best friend should be nothing. Right? _Right?_

Sander sat down on the couch beside Robbe, smoothing out the blanket over his legs. Robbe smiled at the gesture and tried to calm the tremor in his hands. It would be fine. This was Jens. It would be fine.

“You want me to go out?” Sander asked, propping one leg up casually and resting his elbow against it. “Give you guys some privacy.”

And then, as expected, it happened again. That brief spike of panic that stemmed from his throat to his chest at the thought of Sander being far from him. Ice in his veins. _Hell no._

But he didn’t know how to say that, so he just shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek.

Sander nodded, eyes warm. He could always melt the worst of it. “I can wait in the art studio then, okay?”

Robbe nodded in relief, unable to speak. He hated the panic and knew that it was something irrational but he wasn’t able to shake it just yet. Instead, he placed a hand on the back of Sander’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It started gentle, and delicate, but then Robbe wasn’t able to pull away as he deepened it. Sander melted into him, cupping the back of Robbe’s head as their noses pressed together, like they couldn’t get close enough. Both of their eyes were squeezed shut as Robbe pulled back slightly to catch his breath. Sander kept his forehead pressed against Robbe’s, lips a brush away, the hot, desperate air between them laced in words they didn’t need to say. Robbe felt slightly less nervous now, so he kissed him again, softly, and pulled away with a smile on his face to silently say _I’m okay._ Then Sander kissed him fondly, and pulled away, and Robbe couldn’t stop the giggle that he let out as a knock on the door interrupted them.

Sander squeezed Robbe’s shoulder and got up to answer it. Robbe bit the inside of his cheek to calm another wave of panic that he wasn’t sure had more to do with Jens or Sander’s sudden distance. _Stupid._ He thought. _You’re fine._

Robbe watched as Sander swung the door open to reveal Jens, hands stuffed in the front pocket of his jeans, a failed attempt to appear relaxed because his face betrayed him. Jens was a simple guy, the chill friend. Not much broke through his calm demeanor. Except perhaps, Robbe’s near-death-experience. That maybe had the power.

“Hey dude,” Jens said as he lifted a hand to pull Sander in for a ‘bro’ handshake. Sander tried to follow along with it, and Robbe had to look away to avoid laughing at Sander’s cluelessness.

Sander shut the door behind them as Jens looked at Robbe. Jens eyes widened, his brows furrowed, and he darted towards Robbe. Sander quietly made his exit into the art studio with one last encouraging look at Robbe.

Jens threw himself onto the couch beside Robbe and wasted no time in scanning Robbe’s face, his eyes darting from one bruise to the next, black eye to his darkened jaw, the cut on his nose to the gash on his head. Robbe suddenly felt very exposed, but he held the eye contact when Jens finally narrowed in.

“Hey,” Robbe didn’t know how else to start, and internally smacked himself because tongue-tied-Robbe had returned. Not the time.

“Robbe…” Jens looked the most upset Robbe had seen him in years, his features etched in concern and his mouth hanging open a bit. “What happened?”

Robbe twiddled his hands together in his lap, unable to keep still. “It’s kind of a… long story? I have to tell you something else first.”

“Who did this to you?” Jens was taking on his protective brother role as he craned his neck down to look Robbe in the eye.

Alright, so this was going to be a battle.

“I’m telling you it’s a long story-”

“Just tell me who and I will-”

“Jens-”

“Was it someone at school?”

“No- I mean, well, kinda, I guess-”

“Who?”

“I need to start at the beginning-”

“I swear to god I will kick their-”

“She’s dead.” Robbe said louder, firmer. “So no need.”

Jens stopped, mouth opening wider in shock. It was interesting to see his reaction to that. Robbe suddenly couldn’t remember a time where death was shocking to him.

“Who is dead?”

“Sander is a vampire.”

Robbe figured Jens wasn’t going to stop talking until he just came out with it. Jens had next to no reaction as he stayed completely frozen. But his eyes were far away, as if he was putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Robbe waited, looking down at his fingers in his lap.

“Oh,” Jens suddenly spoke up. “He- really?”

Robbe nodded. Jens had always been a firm believer in the supernatural, especially when they were kids. Dwindling a bit in their teenage years, of course, but Robbe was certain Jens never stopped believing in them. This wasn’t the part that Robbe was anxious about, everything following that was, well, that was more heavy. First, Robbe had to wait for the information to really sink it, certain it was a shock nonetheless.

“Oh wow,” Jens leaned his shoulder against the back of the couch and looked past Robbe’s head. “Oh, that makes so much sense.” 

So this was the direction he was going to take it.

“You’re such a bullshitter,” Robbe blurted out. “He’s great at blending in.”

“I’m just saying it all makes sense.”

“Liar,” Robbe chuckled. “You had no clue.”

“No, I mean, I didn’t, but now I can see.”

“How?”

“He’s super weird.”

“Oh shut up,” Robbe playfully pushed his shoulder. “Guess who the other clan members are then.”

“There’s more?”

“Mhm.”

“Uh,” Now, Jens was nervous. “Jana?”

Robbe gaped. “Are you kidding? Aren’t you sleeping with her? I think you would know-”

“Yasmina?” Jens guessed next.

Robbe stopped, a guilty look coming over his face. Jens grinned as he punched the air. 

“I knew it.”

“Oh fuck off.”

They both laughed for a moment and it felt _good_. The normalcy felt _good_. Robbe hadn’t realized how much he had needed this until this second, as they let their laughter fill the space and replace any tension that had previously been. But, when they stopped laughing, Jens ran a hand through his hair as the silence resumed, and then his eyes were back to studying the damage done to Robbe’s face.

And it was one of the few times that Jens was rendered speechless, no change of topic about something relating to his life, no joke to ease the tension, just a silent question hanging in the air. Jens was waiting for Robbe to explain on his own time.

So with a heavy exhale, Robbe did.

Robbe started by revealing the other members of the clan. He did his best to briefly sum up the bits about Britt’s mom being after them in the past, how Robbe had learned all of this over Christmas break. How Viktor was turned. How Zoe and Milan lost their mates. How Britt had wheedled her way into getting to know the clan as she tried to gain intel on if they were the clan that her mother was after. How Sander was his mate. How Sander’s drink was spiked and then how Britt had cornered Robbe after his final Bio exam. How Britt and Viktor were working together.

It was harder for Robbe to explain the next part as he realized this was his first time speaking it out loud, but he tried anyway. He explained how they took his blood, and beat him simply to get to Sander. How he would do it all over again if it meant that Sander and his family get to live without fear moving forward.

It was the longest Robbe had ever talked without stopping, second to his campfire story at the cottage, but it felt too important to downplay, and Jens didn’t have much input for obvious reasons. Jens was quiet for a few moments once Robbe was done speaking, and then he was pulling him into a hug. Robbe squeezed his eyes shut as delicate hands were placed on the back of his shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was all laid out on the table. 

Sander was right. Robbe didn’t want to lose Jens.

Robbe felt exhausted all over again at recounting the events of the past couple of months, but it helped him to see it all better too. Through all of the good and bad that he had to endure, damn, what a ride. What a beautiful, beautiful adventure. He wouldn’t change a thing. 

He waited for Jens to ask more questions. In fact, this was the part he dreaded most, but Jens surprised him once more.

“So,” Jens cleared his throat when he pulled away, cheeks red. “Guess I will have to find someone else to room with next year.”

Robbe hadn’t thought about that. In fact, he had been so swept up in the direction his life had taken that he had almost forgotten that the world would eventually go back to studying, and parties, and Jens… Moyo and Aaron. It all seemed like a distant life that had happened in another universe. A past life. 

And yet it wasn’t. Life would return to normal. It was interesting that he found himself thinking of a life with vampires and blood sucking and blood-laced weapons as normal, but it was hard to imagine a time without it at this point. It was oddly comforting to think about returning to college for second year, Yasmina as a biology partner, Sander to come home to at the end of the day. 

There was just one thing that was wrong. And it was the basis for most of his problems. He had to learn to accept that he would age while Sander would not. That he would only ever be half involved in Sander’s world. That one day, this would all come to an end. 

But after everything that they had been through since that horrible argument that was the beginning to a series of unfortunate events, he was feeling an interesting acceptance. Robbe could have left Sander’s apartment to go to his biology exam, worried about his future as a human, only to die a few days later. _Sander_ could have died a few days later. And then what was it all for? The anxiety for the future? Nothing. It would have been for nothing.

For now, he wanted to laugh with his best friend. He wanted to check his exam results online and play cards with the vampire clan. He just wanted to revel in the little life that had almost been taken away from him. He would figure out the rest later. Because forever exists right now.

So Robbe exhaled. “If you passed your exams.”

“I would chuck this pillow at your face if it wasn’t black and blue.”

“Oh, you’re terrifying.”

“Okay, tough guy. Vampires changed you.”

\---

_A flash of blonde hair. Not white, though. Stringy. Hanging against black clothing. A knife lifting up his chin to inspect the bite mark on his neck. A blur of colours and figures that he was uncertain of. What was real? What was not? Then-_

_Ice-cold hair in the corner of the room. Only- there was something off. There was some brown poking through the roots. Robbe’s eyes roamed down to see two black eyes, a bruised jaw, blood… everywhere. Blood surrounding his limp body sprawled on the cold, concrete floor. Robbe could do nothing from where he was chained against the wall as Britt approached the lifeless body with a delighted look etched into her features. Robbe struggled weakly. He couldn’t open his eyes wide enough._

_Get away… get away from him…_

_This was wrong._

Robbe woke up gasping. Strong arms enveloped him and his brain didn’t need time to process that it was Sander. Sander. Alive. A vampire. Safe in his apartment. It was almost enough to ease his racing heartbeat as he buried his face into Sander’s cool neck. 

“I got you,” Sander whispered, smoothing back Robbe’s hair. “You’re safe.”

“ _You’re_ safe.”

“I’m safe.”

Robbe closed his eyes again. He felt mentally drained but he didn’t want to sleep again. The nightmares were the most expected side effect of being tortured. Nightmares had plagued him long before, only now they were morphing to a different kind of fear. He was never being beaten in his dreams, because that didn’t scare him. She could have stripped away every part of him, but the minute she touched Sander, that almost broke him.

“I think we should go somewhere,” Sander whispered. “Get out of here for awhile.”

“Anywhere with you.” Robbe replied sleepily, still coming out of it.

Sander kissed the top of his head. “I have yet to show you my fishing skills.”

Robbe snorted into Sander’s neck. It was such a relief every time Sander could bring him out of a post-nightmare haze with a subtle joke. “Fishing skills…”

“Just you, me, and a couple of fishing rods.”

“You’re so old.”

Sander held him tighter. The bruises on his chest were beginning to lessen, and he was almost certain he had caught up on sleep. The gash on his head was scabbing over and he no longer needed the bandages on his chest. Physically, he was on his way to healing. Emotionally, well, a few weeks away from everything sounded wonderful.

Sander started whispering and Robbe’s eyes fluttered shut at the sound. He whispered I love you’s, and of Robbe’s importance to him. He placed little kisses into Robbe’s hair and buried his nose into his scalp as he went from talking about how peaceful it was out on the lake, and then back to sweet nothings. _I’m going to hold you tightly. Thank you for loving me. You mean everything._

Robbe fell asleep when Sander turned to humming in his ear, feeling safe and protected.

\---

History repeated itself a few days later as Robbe and Sander took off for the cottage once more.

They drove with the windows open, warm air floated through the car and the sun beamed in through the sunroof. It felt good to be travelling to the cottage wearing simply a t-shirt and jeans, a contrast to how bundled he had been in the winter time. Sander though, Sander stayed the same, as Sander always did. 

The journey felt much shorter than last time as well, considering it was just the two of them and Robbe had no more vampires to meet. Robbe snuck glances at himself in the reflection of the side view mirror, taking in his fading bruises and scarring cuts. His ribs continued to ache, but it was dull in comparison to what had initially been a white-hot pain every time he moved. Regardless, he refused to let it stop him from enjoying the cottage. Or, he refused to let it stop Sander from enjoying the cottage. He was going to keep up if it was the last thing he did.

They pulled up to the front of the now-familiar cottage, tires working overtime to trek through the dirt road, but when the lake came into view- Robbe immediately knew what Sander had meant. The cottage was different in the summertime on more levels than just physical. As Sander grabbed their bags and darted inside to put them in the bedroom, Robbe crawled out of the passenger seat and stopped near the dock to look at the water. Seagulls were flying above him, crickets were chirping, a boat zoomed past, and it felt like a different world. And maybe that was dramatic, but everything felt separate. It felt like falling asleep to Sander humming in his ear. Warm, and safe, and rejuvenating. It was the perfect paradise. 

Robbe was snapped out of his daze by Sander dashing back outside and leaning against the porch. Sander closed his eyes as the sun hit his face and blew out a relieved exhale. “Oh how I’ve missed the sun.”

“Breaking stereotypes, how 21st century of you.”

Robbe noticed Sander had changed into beige shorts, socks pulled up from where he was wearing moccasins. Sander clapped his hands together and hopped over the porch to join Robbe on the dock, spinning Robbe around, leading him farther down it. Robbe looked back at him with a curious stare and almost tripped over his feet.

“Where are we going?” Robbe asked as they made their way down to the dock.

“No time like the present,” Sander smirked. “I’ve missed my canoe.”

That may have been the most endearing thing Robbe had ever heard.

Sander flipped the canoe over by himself and pushed it into the water. Robbe would have helped but a) Sander didn’t need the extra strength and b) his ribs would not appreciate that. As graceful as Sander was, he almost fell over trying to get inside, and Robbe regretted laughing because he, too, almost wiped out into the water. Sander handed him a paddle, and they sat facing each other as they pushed off of the dock. Sander’s back was facing the direction they were going and Robbe giggled at the concentrated look on his face.

Robbe squinted as the sun hit his eyes and he had a thought. “So the sun really does nothing to you?”

Sander grinned. “It makes me sleepy.”

Robbe was pretty sure he had been told that already, but he giggled anyway. “Oh, how cute.”

Sander scrunched his nose, also squinting. “It’s one of the reasons I love it so much.”

Robbe nodded. He wondered if he would ever run out of questions. He thought someone ought to write a rulebook and made a mental note to tell Yasmina the next time he saw her. She was the vampire expert after all.

Sander stopped paddling somewhere in the middle of the lake, and Robbe was grateful for the break as he put the paddle down and stretched his arms. The sun was beating down on them, reflecting off the water and almost blinding Robbe if he looked directly at it. 

Sander bit the inside of his cheek, and he had his hand rested on the front pocket of his jeans. Robbe watched Sander’s eyes roam around the lake. He looked rather majestic, a lion staring out at his kingdom. And when those eyes landed on Robbe, Robbe’s lips twitched into a smile. Sander let out a long exhale as if he was gearing up to say something important.

“I got you something,” Sander said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a square shaped jewelry box and Robbe’s eyes widened at the sight of it. Without thinking, his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth fell open. Sander could not be-

“Proposing?” Robbe blurted out. “Are you proposing-”

Sander jumped at the question, mouth falling open in shock. “No! No,” A laugh fell through his words. “Wow, no. I mean- I guess, technically, you could call it something like that.”

Robbe was very confused, but he giggled at Sander’s nervousness and had learned to not question much when it came to him. 

Sander opened the box and Robbe’s entire body stilled. Sitting against black velvet, newly fixed up and once again safe and protected, was the angel pendant. It was as if the sun was shining directly on it. In the place that Sander had given it to him once before, here they were again. A little warmer, a bit more bumped and bruised, but still them. 

Sander gently flipped it over with delicate fingers. Engraved in the middle were the initials, R + S. It was cheesy and so, so Sander that Robbe giggled, tears filling his eyes. He couldn’t speak. He was just- just so happy they were here. And the necklace was here. Nothing was lost to the cold warehouse. Sander had made sure of that.

Sander was looking at him so earnestly that Robbe’s heart threatened to break in two. 

He lowered the box so it was resting on his lap, clearing his throat and looking between Robbe’s eyes, forehead crinkled. Robbe tilted his head, urging him to go on.

“I wanted to talk about our fight,” Sander said slowly. “Before- before everything happened.”

His stomach churned. Robbe shuffled forward and cupped the sides of Sander’s hands in his. He didn’t feel this was the place to have another debate, and Robbe was feeling too at peace to argue again. He didn’t want the water around them to turn sour. Especially given what this place meant to him.

Robbe shook his head. “It’s okay, really.”

Sander’s lip twitched into a small smile. “I love you.” The words seemed to escape from his mouth.

Robbe grinned, surprised at the suddendy of the words. “Hey, I love you too.”

Sander squeezed Robbe’s hand. Robbe could tell Sander was gearing up to say something by the gesture, so he waited. He watched the quiver of his cheek, the way his eyes fluttered to the water, the sky, the trees in the distance, how the pale strands of his hair resembled the smallest of waves in the water. Sander looked so completely in his element. Above all of this, he seemed happy. Robbe got the feeling he was about to find out why.

“There are things about this life that are hard. Things that I thought were unique to me because they multiplied when I became… like this. This- this existential pondering of ‘what is it all for? What is the point of anything when you’re going to live forever?’ Initially, the thought of dragging you into this with me was- I hated the thought of it. I felt selfish, no matter how much you wanted it, because I know. I know what it’s like.

“But the truth is, these ongoing thoughts, these questions, they’ve always been there. It’s not unique to me. I know that life is unpredictable, I know that spending every waking moment worrying about what-if’s is a terrible, terrible existence. But with you, everything becomes quieter. Because in between the what-if’s is… you. Just you. And that makes it all worth it. There’s always going to be worry, and fear, but it’s so miraculous really, to be able to feel this much. For this life, our family. You.”

Robbe was already letting out a sigh of relief. He knew before Sander said it.

“I want you. I want forever with you.”

Everything quieted. 

“And I want you to know, you have a place here too, if you’d like it.”

Robbe’s voice was completely caught in his throat as he moved his head in short jerks that he hoped Sander would recognize as him trying to nod, biting his lips and tears spilling down his cheeks. It was so unexpected that the shock made him feel like he was choking. God, Sander was always surprising him; he should have almost expected it. And it was strange, to desire something as much as he desired Sander, and Sander’s world, and the thought of getting to keep it. He could keep it. He could hold it tightly in his hands and never let it go. He couldn’t help but remember a time that he needed something more to _feel_ even a semblance of what he was feeling now. Relief. A surge of electricity. A love for life.

Words still failing him, Robbe reached for the necklace with shaking hands, but Sander was impatient. He leaped forward and wrapped his arms around Robbe’s shoulders and kissed him fiercely. Robbe flung his around Sander’s neck and held his head close, kissing back, his salty tears falling between their mouths. Birds chirped in the distance, the canoe swayed, and Sander’s smile against his lips was everything. It was enough to remind Robbe that Sander wanted him in his world. Sander wanted him forever. 

Sander pulled away slightly and spoke against Robbe’s lips. “That was my reason for bringing you here, but if it’s too soon-”

“It’s not too soon,” Robbe breathed, hot air hitting Sander’s lips. Although his heart was hammering at the realization that it would happen here. In one of Sander’s favourite places in the world. In one of Robbe’s favourite places. Somewhere that had many memories that Robbe held close to his heart. The place Sander had told Robbe that he’s his person. Here. Now. “I know what I want.”

Sander then placed one more kiss on Robbe’s lips before looking down. He took the necklace out of the box and Robbe turned so that Sander could place it on his neck. Goosebumps arose as cold fingers brushed past his neck, and then lips were replacing them, placing light kisses down his neck and into his hair. 

Because Robbe was learning the importance of not looking too far forward, or backwards, and he knew Sander felt the same about the what if’s. What if his mom was still alive? What if he had never come to Antwerp? What if Milan hadn’t turned Sander? What if Sander didn’t turn Robbe? It didn’t matter. None of it did. He could only focus on the now. It was the only thing to be certain of. And right now, he knew what he wanted. He internally laughed at past-Robbe who was trying to find some acceptance to staying human. But at the moment, that’s what he had to do. And now that reality changed, as realities always do.

He wanted to be a vampire. 

He wanted Sander.

And Sander wanted him.

And everything else would happen around them.

The rumble of a boat engine had Robbe and Sander whipping their heads in the direction of it. Sander tensed for a moment as he surveyed the situation, and he relaxed when the boat got closer. Robbe squinted. Two men, forties maybe, were inside the smaller boat and the wake from the engine was causing the canoe to bob more aggressively. Sander clutched Robbe’s arm for support as the boat sped past them. Robbe couldn’t stop another round of elated giggles forcing their way out of his mouth.

“Congratulations!” One of the men yelled with his hand in the air.

Robbe almost yelled back with a ‘thank you’, thinking he was congratulating Robbe on his victory with the vampire debate, before he stopped. Sander started laughing and Robbe looked from Sander’s face to the jewelry box still clutched in his hand.

“Oh they think-” Robbe began.

Sander waved at the boat speeding away with a delighted expression. “Thank you! He said yes!”

“Oh my god,” Robbe covered his face and fell into Sander’s chest. Sander laughed in his ear and Robbe wondered if it was possible to be any happier than he was now. Sometimes humanity was so damn cute.

“Robbe?”

“Mm?”

“I vote yes by the way. Final vote.”

“To?”

“You being a vampire.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

\---

Robbe was entirely sure this was a unique situation for everyone. On one hand, this was his choice. This was no inch-from-death circumstance. This wasn’t ‘here and now’. And that alone caused an interesting energy to hang in the air. On the other hand, Sander was probably more nervous than Robbe was. Sander had never turned someone before and while he had never heard of it going wrong, he had told Robbe that it was going to be difficult to watch him be in pain. And while Robbe took pride in his ability to handle pain that didn’t mean he was going to enjoy it. He just wanted that part to be over with. He wished he could snap his fingers and become a vampire.

He was anxious to begin his new life. Anxious to know what it will _feel_ like. But there was no edicate here. No rule book. At some point Sander would bite him and thus begins Robbe’s irreversible fate. They were both sure of their decision, but nerves were unavoidable. 

Later that evening they dragged two patio chairs to the end of the dock, and Robbe wrapped his blanket up tighter around himself despite the warm night. Once again, a lack of information on how to deal with this type of thing was proving to be difficult, because Robbe wasn’t sure what to say. Sander had turned rather quiet, lost in his thoughts that were so visible on his face. His eyes matched the stillness of the water in front of them, as if he was searching for answers below the surface, all the while his finger was tapping steadily against the arm of the patio chair. Nerves sat heavy in the air, and Robbe wondered if they would remain until the final moment of Robbe’s human life. 

Sander stopped his tapping to wrap his hand around Robbe’s forearm, and Robbe leaned his head against the back of the wood to look at Sander with half open eyes, the sounds of the night making him rather sleepy.

Sander opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Then opened it again. Then shut it. Until finally: “I don’t want you to hold back for my sake, when you’re… in pain, I mean.”

Of course, that was the part that was playing around in Sander’s mind. His heart ached at the way that Sander was one again putting Robbe first. “I won’t. How does it… feel?”

They were treading carefully. Robbe had questions that he knew were difficult for Sander to answer, but it was getting harder to avoid them. He was curious, so damn curious, about so many things about this. It was also a nice distraction, to be thinking about this rather than everything he had been through recently. He was yearning to bring his attention to something else. 

“Like you’re on fire,” Sander whispered, his forehead crinkled as if he was remembering every jab of pain. “Like you’re being burned alive from the inside out.”

“Lovely,” Robbe tried for some humour. “Can’t wait.”

Sander’s eyes were still vacant, completely missing Robbe’s ‘joke’. Robbe’s squeezed his hand again.

“The longer we wait the more nervous you’re going to be,” Robbe said softly.

Sander nodded and closed his eyes. “I know, I just want you to be ready.”

“Okay,” Robbe encouraged for Sander’s sake. “So tell me what I need to know.”

Sander's jaw clenched as he sighed shakily. Robbe waited. Robbe was remembering the first time Sander had sucked his blood and how it was quite similar to this. Although this time Robbe was definitely nervous, he just knew that Sander was taking the brunt of it. Robbe understood his worry. Robbe just had to lay there and take it. Sander had to watch… again. Only now, it was willingly with consent.

“You know how vampire weapons are created using human blood?” Sander reminded him.

The thought felt like someone grabbing his heart and dipping it in ice cold water. Robbe would never forget that fact, and he couldn’t control his thoughts from wandering to the memory of being strapped to a chair and drained. Britt’s knife. Viktor’s glare. It was an unexpected reaction, a flash of annoyance somewhere below the sudden anxiety. But he was learning that these sudden reactions were something he would have to learn to deal with, because he was absolutely incapable of controlling them. One sentence could send him… here. Robbe’s face must have shown a semblance of the sudden panic inside of him, because Sander was standing up in seconds, kneeling on the ground in front of Robbe’s chair and grabbing his hands. Robbe opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Robbe?” Sander asked, looking up at him with gentle, yet worried, eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Not your fault,” Robbe found his voice, though it came out jagged amidst a couple of pants. “Fuck.”

His heart was hammering at an alarming rate, but Sander’s hands were like an anchor. 

“Breathe with me,” Sander squeezed. “Just breathe.”

As Robbe tried, Sander brought their hands to his lips and placed soft, healing kisses to the top of Robbe’s hands, his fingers, his wrists. Robbe focused on his face, on the water behind him in his peripherals, on the sound of crickets somewhere behind him. They came here for this reason, to escape. To heal. And after a few minutes, Robbe’s breathing returned to normal, and Sander tried for a smile.

“Okay?” Sander asked.

Robbe nodded. “You may continue.” He said with a posh accent.

Sander let out a sudden snort, caught off guard by Robbe’s turn around, but remained kneeling there. “I think we’re done for today.”

Robbe furrowed his brows and shook his head, he wanted to hear more. It was just getting good. “No- no. Please? The suspense is killer- get back up here.”

Sander tilted his head but looked amused. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Robbe tapped the chair beside him. “Come.”

Sander fell back into the chair with a grunt but kept one of Robbe’s hands in his, leaning his other elbow on the arm so that he was turned to face Robbe. He raised an eyebrow, asking for permission to continue, so Robbe nodded a bit too quickly. He was fine now, and he wasn’t getting used to the sudden baby panic attacks, but he was learning they might be a part of his life for awhile.

“Something happens when vampire blood and human blood react,” Sander continued. “As you probably concluded, it’s why the weapons have an affect on us. Ingesting it is like fuel, but for it to penetrate through our bodies is something different. So, if I was shot with a bullet laced with your blood it could be lethal. Make sense?”

Robbe nodded, his brain reeling with this new information. It made sense, and Robbe was reaching the conclusion before Sander explained it. 

“So when I turn you, I’m using the same method. I’m using my venom and my blood, and because our blood doesn’t go together, I’m using vampire blood to destroy your human blood.”

Robbe shivered.

“I’ll be there the whole time,” Sander said. “You’ll be able to hear me and talk to me, although it will be difficult. You will probably pass out a couple of times. I had morphine but it did nothing to lessen the pain, it just made me unable to move. I might have to… tie you down, if you’re comfortable with it. So that you don’t hurt yourself.”

Robbe remembered Sander telling him about his past, how Milan had strapped him down to the hospital bed, but it still caused a second flash of worry to hit his throat, albeit not as intense as a few minutes ago. He had to fight off images of chains attaching him to a wall. Hearing Sander say it without any sugar coating was causing his insides to jump start. He was welcoming the old adrenaline back like a familiar friend. While Sander had definitely become an upgraded replacement, he figured he needed some of the old stuff right now, not that he could help it. It was becoming more and more real. 

“I think that’s okay,” Robbe responded. He felt stupid for worrying. It was Sander. Sander wasn’t… he wasn’t Britt.

Sander read him like a book. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with that, especially since she- since Britt… it’s not a necessity Robbe, I promise.”

Robbe rested his other hand against Sander’s cheek and thumbed at his cheek bone. “I think I will be fine.” 

Sander still looked unsure, leaning into the touch.

“It’s you,” Robbe smiled. “You could never hurt me.”

Sander bit his cheek again and breathed out heavily, accepting Robbe’s answer. “Okay, but we will take it slow.”

“You’re the boss.” Robbe repeated what he had said all of those months ago. To think, the context of that had been Sander biting him for the first time. Now they were here. 

Sander held back an eye roll. “Not this again.”

Robbe giggled, desperate to turn the mood around. “The real question is, fishing before or after my dramatic transformation?”

Sander’s eyes sparkled, and Robbe shook his head at the way he seemed more excited to go fishing than Robbe’s ‘dramatic transformation’. “Would you wake up at 6am? We can go in the morning.”

“No way.”

Sander pouted. “Please?”

“6am? Really?” 

“That’s when the fish are hot.”

“Do not use ‘fish’ and ‘hot’ in the same sentence, please.”

Sander laughed and pulled him in for a kiss, and Robbe decided he had enough of serious conversations for one night, because he slipped his tongue into Sander’s mouth, deepening the kiss and letting a soft moan escape. Sander understood, his arm circling to the back of Robbe’s neck and crushing their faces together with intent. 

They made it up to the bedroom in one piece, mouths attached the entire time and clothes flying off the second they cleared the archway. Robbe fell back onto the bed as Sander climbed on top of him, straddling, messily kissing his lips until he just- stopped. Robbe felt so pent up he couldn’t hold back the whine when Sander sat up, but when Robbe opened his eyes, he noticed Sander scanning his chest. 

It was the first time they were attempting this since Robbe had been taken, and if Robbe was honest with himself, he had almost forgotten, too lost in the sudden need to have Sander this way again. But his ribs were still recovering, the bruises fading but still prominent, new scars taking place amidst old ones. So Robbe let Sander stare, let him come to terms with the visual of it. Robbe remembered the first time Sander had taken Robbe home, how he had felt insecure of his scars for a total of ten seconds before Sander was kissing each other with soft, pink lips- and suddenly nothing hurt. 

History repeated itself once more, because Robbe watched as the decision came over Sander’s face. He started by kissing Robbe’s jaw, the bridge of his nose, the fading bite mark on his neck. Robbe hummed when Sander’s lips brushed down his collarbone, and he needed to hold something to stop himself from flying off the handles, so he twisted his fingers into Sander’s hair and held on for dear life. Robbe watched as the memory of each one faded to the background. Not going away, they never would. But Sander's soft lips painted over every scar, every bruise, taking away their power, replacing it with love. With tenderness.

When Sander finally entered him, it was with protective arms wrapped around Robbe’s chest, spooning him from behind, and Robbe’s arms holding onto Sander’s. A few tears trickled down his cheeks, overwhelmed with love and safety and this current, consuming minute. 

\---

Sander had used Robbe’s increased sleep over the past couple of weeks as an opportunity to plan in secret. But despite feeling like he knew absolutely everything there was to know about turning a human, he still felt nerves like a baby elephant jumping on his chest. 

It wasn’t that he thought it would go wrong, no. Well, amidst his other worry, that maybe flashed through his mind once or twice. He was mainly fearing seeing Robbe be in pain, again, because of something he did. And while Milan had scolded him that Robbe being taken by Britt was _not_ his fault, it was still hard for him to believe. The memory of how he had reacted the last time Robbe was hurting was fresh in his brain. He needed to be calm. He needed to trust that he had done it right, that Robbe could handle it, that soon they would be celebrating. 

He just had to get there first.

And he had to stop procrastinating.

Fishing did not go to plan. Fishing was usually escapism from Sander’s bad thoughts but it had the opposite effect. Waiting for fish to bite was not a distraction from the fact he would be sinking his venom into Robbe’s skin soon. If anything, it forced him to think more about it. And he was driving the boat back to the cottage after an hour.

Robbe read him like a book. Not a shock. When Sander docked the boat, he took off up the slope to get to the cottage when he realized that Robbe wasn’t following him. He turned around to see Robbe still standing on the dock with his arms crossed. Sander just stared.

“You coming?” Sander called.

“This is agonizing,” Robbe took a step forward but remained on the dock. “Just change me.”

Sander almost laughed but thought better of it. “Soon.”

“What are we waiting for?” Robbe asked. “You were practically vibrating the entire morning.”

Sander looked away, a warm breeze pushing his hair back. “I don’t know.”

Robbe approached him slowly, stopping only when he was an inch away. Sander clenched his jaw and couldn’t meet his eyes. He knew Robbe wanted this. And Sander wanted it too. He was just so nervous, it was as simple, or, not so simple, as that.

But Robbe was looking at him with his gentle, soft doe eyes and Sander’s heart ached. Robbe was always patient with him. It was one of the things Sander loved most. 

“You know what I’ve been telling myself lately?” Robbe’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“What?” Sander asked, meeting his gaze.

“To take everything minute by minute,” Robbe said, and Sander felt like the words have been said a million times before, and yet, he was certain Robbe had never spoken them before. It was like a past memory nagging at his brain, words that had been engraved into his existence. “There’s no point in worrying about tomorrow when today is all we have, you know?”

Sander nodded. “I know.”

“So this minute, we need to make a decision,” Robbe continued. “When are we doing this?”

Sander knew Robbe was right. It was as if their lives were on hold, as if they would only resume once Sander bit him. It was the final piece of the puzzle, the last straw. It was waiting on a cliff's edge knowing you will jump but waiting for the right moment to. And there’s never a right moment. There’s only the moment you decide. And they had already decided.

“Tomorrow,” Sander whispered, a nail in a coffin. “For now, we have tonight.”

Tonight was a ticking time bomb, the final hours of them being this. Robbe wrapped his arms around Sander’s chest and they stayed standing there for quite some time, the waves crashing behind them, the sun moving in the sky as time just… passed. Time, an invisible force of nature that forced you to come face to face with your darkest demons, because with time came change. Even for a vampire, there was always change. Sander didn’t feel like the same person he was a week ago, or a month ago, or years ago. Yet he looked the same. He thought about how one of his biggest rebuttals for turning Robbe was that he would be frozen, unable to move forward and live a real human life. He was happy he lost that argument, because he had been wrong. Robbe would move forward. To say that Robbe would lose out on a real life would be an insult to Sander’s time on this earth. Sander had lived, and breathed, he had suffered and learned, and now there was this. The only difference now was that there was Robbe. Robbe to never say goodbye to. Robbe to share his life with.

When two people find each other, two halves of one soul connect, that was a pretty good thing to believe in.

They held onto each other the whole night, four hands, four legs, four eyes. One soul. Falling into bed, crashing into a world that only existed for them. The planets were aligned again, the water around them continued to exist, company within this dream-like state of endings and beginnings. Sander traced the curve of Robbe’s jaw, the fading bruise, thumbed over his soft eyes and pink lips, the blush on his cheek. He silently said his goodbyes to this human Robbe, the one he was so terrified of losing. He thought about all he had lost and the strength it takes to recover from it, to find something worth living for. And he realized, there was one thing above everything else, in all forms, that was worth it, that can save you. Love. For Robbe, human and vampire. For his family, who had lost a great deal themselves. For Sander, who had almost lost himself. 

And when he made that choice all those months ago, to dive into the deep end, to let Robbe into his life, he had chosen to live. He had found that something. 

And in the morning, he would make another choice. 

To begin again.

\---

“What are you thinking about?” 

It was Sander asking Robbe this time, as Robbe had asked Sander so many times before. Robbe could see the sun rising through the window, painting them both in the fresh morning glow. It was fitting for the occasion as they both lay facing each other, noses a breath apart. 

“My mom,” Robbe answered honestly. 

She was with him all night. Robbe couldn’t explain it, but he felt her there, as if she was approving of his decision. She was there in the pendant on his neck. He didn’t feel tongue tied as he continued.

“I thought I had found a way to be comfortable with death,” Robbe whispered as Sander soothed his hair out of his face. “After she died I thought… oh, this is it. This is what that feels like, to lose someone and be completely vulnerable to it. And I waited to recover, but I don’t think you do.”

“A part of you dies with them,” Sander replied knowingly.

Robbe nodded, his nose brushing against Sander’s. “And maybe that’s the point. There’s no way to be comfortable with death. It’s not possible, or should be expected.”

“I’ll always be scared of losing you,” Sander said, eyebrows furrowed in painful anxiety Robbe had seen so many times before. “Only now, your chances will be…-”

“Decreased?” Robbe asked, a chuckle playing in his voice.

“By at least 80%,” Sander said. “Maybe, 86%.”

“Something like that.”

“Are you comfortable with this death?” Sander asked. “Your human death?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Sander looked to be on the verge of another joke, but then something else came over him. Sander engulfed him in a hug, sitting them both up, placing one hand on the back of Robbe’s head and holding him close to his chest. Robbe let him, hugging back with as much force as he could manage. They didn’t move for what felt like hours. It was as if Sander was afraid to let go and Robbe felt a flash of hurt. This was the first time since their canoe ride that Robbe was feeling any kind of uncertainty.

Robbe spoke into Sander’s shoulder. “Sander, if you really don’t want this I will understand.”

Sander finally pulled away, but he stayed close as he cupped Robbe’s face in his delicate hands. “I want this. I promise.”

Robbe studied him. “I just feel like it’s hurting you.”

Sander trailed his thumb over Robbe’s cheek. “If you had to watch me writhe in pain for two days would it not hurt you?”

Robbe bit his lip. “Touche.”

“But then after we have forever.”

Robbe felt warm all over. Forever. Hearing Sander say it was doing something different for him. Because this was real. Sander wanted this. It still felt like a dream. It might always feel like a dream, but what a wonderful feeling. Nervousness hung in the air, for both of them, as Sander continued to thumb over Robbe’s cheekbones, seemingly savouring every final inch of his human form. And Robbe just let him. Robbe had said his goodbyes. He was ready. He had never wanted, never needed, anything more than this. 

It looked like it took everything in Sander to finally tear his eyes away, settling on the handcuffs on the bedside table. Robbe didn’t feel any fear for those, as he had wondered if he would a few days ago. This was Sander. This was it. There was no reason to be scared, not with Sander’s gentle fingers wrapping around the fabric and settling them in his lap. Robbe’s eyes roamed from the cuffs, then back to Sander’s face, a million jokes suddenly on his brain.  


Sander noticed and playfully rolled his eyes. 

“Now?” Robbe asked.

“No time like the present,” Sander repeated what he had said when they first arrived at the cottage, and Robbe thought about _minute by minute_. “Going to need something stronger than these when you’re a vampire.”

“Oh, priorities,” Robbe replied as Sander sat beside him. “I like it.”

Sander snorted as he picked up one of Robbe’s wrists and then his eyes became serious. He gently kissed the inside of Robbe’s wrist and Robbe held the eye contact so that he knew he was comfortable. The cuffs were padded, not that it was going to make much a difference in a few hours. But Sander had insisted, and he was gentle and so, so delicate as he cuffed Robbe’s hand to the headboard. He repeated the process after crawling over Robbe’s body to reach his other wrist. A kiss, gentle fingers, and then he was tied to the headboard.

Sander sat on the end of the bed and kneeled down so he was level with Robbe’s face. “Okay?”

Robbe smiled so he knew that he was. “I am.”

Sander’s eyes were dark, pupils dilated. Robbe felt every nerve springing to life as he realized this was it. These were his last moments being a human. And yet, there was something else on his mind as he felt his own eyes dark and heavy with lust and _want_. In 48 hours his human blood would be replaced. This was the last time Sander could suck his blood like _this_. His head was tilting up on it’s own accord. His throat exposed. 

Robbe’s chest was rising and falling rather quickly. Sander looked concerned for a brief moment before Robbe was gasping out, “Bite me.”

Sander straddled him, leaning down to kiss Robbe fiercely on the lips. Robbe moaned into it. He wrapped his legs around Sander’s middle and squeezed in an attempt to ground himself, but it was no use. Sander pulled away slightly to mutter against Robbe’s lips. “I’m going to use my venom, okay?”

Robbe shut his eyes and nodded, already too far gone. He was certain that was the hottest thing he had ever heard in his life.

If his final moments as a human were this, God, what a way to go.

Robbe watched as Sander pricked his thumb against his fang, and he was in awe at the sight of a drop of vampire blood that oozed out of it. The rest of his hand formed a fist, his thumb sticking out, as he rested it against the side of Robbe’s face. And he kissed him until his lips were swollen and Robbe was a whimpering mess beneath him. Sander was practically vibrating as he pulled away to trail kisses down Robbe’s chin, along his jaw and then finally to his neck. Robbe was on fire as hot air against his jugular made him shiver. 

And then Sander was biting.

And it might have been because of the given situation, but Robbe was certain that it felt different. If Sander sucking his blood had been euphoric, this was otherworldly. Sander unclamped the fingers resting on the side of Robbe’s face to hook his thumb into Robbe’s mouth, and the taste was golden. Robbe let it soak into his tongue for a second before he began sucking. Robbe let out a whine in response to Sander’s moans against his neck, and his vision faded. The room was swirling around him taking the form of every vivid dream he had ever had. He saw his mom laughing uncontrollably on the edge of his childhood bed, and Jens’ face the first time Robbe made a joke after her death. He saw Sander and Lola sitting in an empty room with easels set up long forgotten against the wall as they shared demons. He saw viscous waves crashing against a shore and the sound of a skateboard flying down pavement. He saw every good and bad decision that had led him to Sander Driesen, along with a never-ending book of blank pages. A future. 

And suddenly he was drowning.

He found himself underwater. He was a year or two younger and was floating, boneless, amidst a sea of bad decisions. He didn’t want to die, no. But that may have been what it looked like as his lungs screamed for air and time above him ticked on. He just wanted to _feel something_. Anything. So he waited, but nothing came. Only a light headed sensation and a sudden realization that he had to swim to the surface or he would drown.

And when his lungs met oxygen; nothing. He kept drowning. He always had been. 

As venom sank its teeth into every crevice of Robbe’s interior, that was all he could feel. Like he was drowning. Every inhale wasn’t enough. His lungs were collapsing in on themselves, his eyes springing open to reveal a blurry, watered down room. Every nerve, every bone, every god damn part of him was screaming for air, for release, for the pain to end. And Robbe wanted it to end, but it was oddly familiar, this feeling. As if he had been here his whole life, struggling against a muddy, powerful force that pushed him beneath the surface. It’s what allowed him to keep his mind as he began to tug on the restraints, as he heard himself gasp, as he just had to _take it_. 

And Sander was there, as Sander always was. He was there when Robbe couldn’t help but let out a spine-chilling scream because _he couldn’t breathe_. He needed to breathe, and he couldn’t. He never could.

“I’m here, baby,” Sander was above the water, his voice foggy and distant. It was enough. It always would be.

Time didn’t exist. It lasted hours, days, months, seconds. Time hadn’t existed for years. He drowned in grief. In loss. In questions unanswered. Yet now, as Sander watched over him, his protector, his angel, his everything, Robbe drowned in more than that. He drowned in trust. This unexplainable, blind trust of giving yourself to another person, handing them your heart, asking them to take you as you are. It transcended any power the universe had. It was the foundation for everything. To give yourself to another human being, to ask them to paint you in their brightest and darkest of colours, to break you and heal you all over again. 

And then it happened.

Vivid clarity.

Robbe was laying on a shore as the final wave melted away, leaving him there to stare at the sun. The sun had icy hair and winter-green eyes. 

And when Robbe inhaled, a sweet, golden-honey hitting his lungs-

He could finally breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (july 2nd): the epilogue will be delayed. i’m in the midst of a family emergency. i hope to write again soon but for now, stay safe. hug your loved ones. love u all
> 
> hellooooo
> 
> i'm so sad this is almost over. one more chapter and it's the epilogue! i'm not going to say goodbyes yet because i simply cannot without crying, but, yeah. i will try to get the epilogue up on time, but if it's delayed, it's because i'm having trouble letting go. i'll keep you updated on tumblr tho!
> 
> my brilliant, talented friend andi made netflix concept art for this fic, please go give that a look.... the link is below! it's INSANE. i need to make a master post for everything that's been made for this fic because i'm starting to worry i'm forgetting something. stay tuned for that!
> 
> as usual, come say hi on tumblr. i love you all and thank you for caring about this fic.... it means the absolute world to me.
> 
> TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bem672rSxhE
> 
> GIFSETS:
> 
> https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/619878235257389056/paint-me-in-trust-by-themoongirl-updates-every
> 
> https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/620385211079884800/paint-me-in-trust-chapter-four-favorite-quotes
> 
> ANDI'S NETFLIX GIFSET: 
> 
> https://evenbechnaesheim.tumblr.com/post/620917253138956288/paint-me-in-trust-created-by-dearsander-now
> 
> INSTAGRAM:@paintme.intrust
> 
> A LOOK AT SANDER'S INSTAGRAM: https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/620598177677099008/paint-me-in-trust-by-dearsander-official
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe
> 
> emma's tumblr:  
> lolahydri
> 
> eddi's tumblr:  
> sekoui
> 
> andi's tumblr:  
> evenbechnaesheim


	7. forever

The room was blood orange. It must have been the evening because, melting through the wide, open window was an almost-blinding sunset. No, not blinding at all, just vibrant. And ridiculously clear. And the specks of dust gliding around the room looked like small miniscule fairies, and Robbe could focus on each one. Could see every encompassing detail. Robbe followed the flow of light with his eyes, studying how it seeped into a sudden, icy-hair boy sitting on the bed beside Robbe’s legs. How the orange lit up his face, how it covered half of him in a god-like glow. He looked unreal. Robbe wondered how he was supposed to stop looking at him like this, every detail so wonderfully alive. In fact, he got so caught up in this that he briefly forgot what was happening. There was only this, Sander, looking like _that_ , and the sunset.

It was only when Sander finally moved, slowly crawling up the bed so that he was kneeling beside Robbe’s chest, hands frozen on the bed in front of him, that Robbe blinked. Sander still wasn’t touching him, and Robbe felt the overwhelming need to _touch him_ , but when he moved his hands he realized he was still handcuffed to the bed. It felt like a different world, the moments leading up to Sander putting them on his wrists. Realistically he knew he could break the cuffs, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure how expensive the headboard was. The thought almost made him laugh out loud, he felt so suddenly, ridiculously relieved and happy. It was over. He was-

He was this. And that was another thing, his brain felt clearer. Faster? Like he had all of the time in the world to jump from thought to thought. He wasn’t sure how much of that was this new body or the fact that, well, he was immortal. He truly had… he had all of the time in the world. Here. Now. With the love of his life. 

Happy. Ridiculously happy.

“Can I touch you?” Sander asked, looking much less elated than Robbe. His brows were furrowed together in concern and god, he looked absolutely exhausted. Robbe realized he wasn’t doing much to show Sander what he was feeling inside of him, as he sat there wide-eyed and blank faced. He was a little overwhelmed in the best way possible.

So Robbe nodded, a little too enthusiastically maybe, because Sander sprung to action. He reached up to break the cuffs with his hands, and Robbe let his arms fall to his chest. They didn’t hurt, didn’t feel sore or achy as they had after… after Britt. 

Sander tossed the cuffs to the ground and resumed kneeling on the bed beside Robbe, and finally, Sander touched him. He cupped Robbe’s face in his hands and Robbe made an embarrassing noise, a gasp so out-of-his control it scared the both of them. Sander recoiled immediately, looking fearful.

“I’m sorry, Robbe, did I hurt you?” He asked, green eyes so wide and beautiful Robbe didn’t know where to begin.

Robbe finally sat up, and Sander shuffled out of the way towards the end of the bed. He looked so nervous it made Robbe’s chest ache, but he was having trouble speaking, the happiness so profound and unexpected. Well, he had been expecting it, but _feeling_ it was different. He could breathe. He hadn’t realized how heavy his human body had felt, like he was carrying every bad day on his chest. Now… now he just felt light. And free. 

“No,” Robbe heard himself, but it was so different. Logically, he knew it was his voice, the same voice, but hearing it in this body was, again, so much clearer. Unclouded. “Woah.”

Sander remained the same. His hands were in fists in his lap and his jaw was set. Robbe steadied himself, crawling over to Sander and stopping an inch away. Sander remained frozen, obviously still scared of touching Robbe again. 

Robbe prepared himself this time. He inhaled and held the breath in his chest as he slowly brought his hand up. He froze a brush away from Sander’s cheek, and then, slowly closed the distance.

It was electric, but not in the painful-zapping you would feel when accidentally getting shocked. It was a calm buzzing, an electricity that stemmed from the hand on Sander’s cheek all the way to his chest. It was akin to the sound of a slow piano, light rain hitting a window in the dead of night, a single lamp in the corner of the room at 3am, the orange sunset covering the two vampires sitting on the bed. It was every feeling that told Robbe things would be okay. It was home.

Sander must have felt it too, because his shoulders untensed, his hands fell limp, his eyes eased. Through all of this, Sander’s eyes never left Robbe’s. They stayed looking back and forth between the two, looking so in love Robbe couldn’t take a second more of it. He plunged forward, wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck, needing to touch every inch of him. Sander let out a startled noise as he squeezed back, burying his face in Robbe’s neck and letting out a shaky exhale. Robbe threaded his fingers into Sander’s hair and tugged, needing an anchor for this elated feeling in his chest. God, this was real.

“Robbe,” Sander whispered against his neck. “That’s- ouch, okay, that’s a little too much-”

Robbe, startled, released his fingers from Sander’s hair and pulled back, his mouth hanging open a bit. Sander snorted as he stared up at Robbe and brushed a brown curl off of his forehead. Robbe shuffled to sit in Sander’s lap and wrap his legs around Sander’s middle, afraid to touch him with his hands now. “Sorry?”

Sander’s smile fell from his face as he went back to being serious, eyes inspecting every inch of Robbe’s face. “Talk to me, are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” Robbe didn’t know where to start.

“If something feels off, I need to know, if anything is wrong-”

“Sander-”

“I also know it can be a bit traumatizing to feel like that for so long, so just, tell me if you need anything-”

“Shhh-” It was Robbe’s turn to cup Sander’s face in his hands, cutting him off and lifting his face to be level with Robbe’s. He spoke slowly so Sander really, really understood. “It was the opposite of suffering, Sander. To come into that feeling. I feel- I feel so, so happy.“

“Really?” Sander asked. 

“Really.”

And then Sander was connecting their lips, placing a hand on the back of Robbe’s neck and letting out a noise of blissful relief. “I was so worried.” He spoke into it. And Robbe replied, “I know.” And they kept kissing until the sun was long gone, the darkness engulfing them, and yet, Robbe could still see everything so lucid and precise. Kissing Sander like this was like kissing him for the first time. His lips were full and still-dominating against his own, his breath honey-sweet and so, so familiar at the same time. Everything was just magnified now, and the sensation remained that they had all of the time in the world. There was no rush for anything, no worry of the next minute. Just this. Only this. Forever continued to exist right here, right now. 

It was only when Robbe felt a gnawing at his throat that it became harder to continue kissing Sander. It was there since the moment he woke up, only now, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. It was the sensation of being hungry and thirsty and in need of _something_ but not knowing what. It reminded him of his need for adrenaline, something that felt like a lifetime away. 

Robbe’s face contorted into a pain-like expression as he slowed his kisses to press his forehead into Sander’s. “My throat- fuck.”

Sander placed one last tender kiss on Robbe’s lips, not minding that Robbe didn’t return it in favour of clutching at his throat, and finally pulled away. “I have some blood in the fridge.”

“What a strange sentence.”

“You’ll get used to it, baby vampire.”

“Oh, hell no,” Robbe frowned. “I refuse the nickname.”

“Come on,” Sander nodded towards the door. “Let’s get you fed.”

Walking was another thing. While Robbe was still young when he died (another thing he would have to get used to, saying that… died?) there was still the odd click of his hip, the sore neck, the awkward hanging of his arms when he walked. Now… there was none of that. He glided down the stairs, feeling a control of his body so new it was mind-spinning. He hadn’t realized that he was using his increased speed to get to the kitchen until he found himself standing by the fridge before Sander had taken the first step down the stairs. Another thing Sander would have to get used to, not needing to wait for Robbe.

Robbe caught sight of himself in the reflection of the microwave, and he jumped thinking there was someone else in the cottage. But it was him. Just Robbe. The remaining greenish-blue bruises that had been lingering on his face were gone, replaced by this new layer of icy thick skin that he used to associate with Sander but now would associate with himself, too. His brown eyes were the same, maybe a little brighter, but Robbe reckoned part of that had to be how wide his eyes had gotten as he stared at himself. He lifted his shirt to see the scars that littered his stomach and chest were… still there. The wounds left by Britt’s knife had skipped months into the healing process and now perfectly blended into the rest of his adrenaline chasing scars. Robbe found himself smiling at them. He was strangely relieved to see that he still looked like himself, just with a newfound confidence that he thought he had always lacked.

Above all of this was a sudden whiff of… blood. He had never known what blood smelled like until now, as if every fibre of his being was screaming for it. It was salty, and sweet, and golden. His chest started moving a little quicker as _need_ overcame every other factor.

“Eager, are we?” Sander laughed as he caught up, immediately opening the fridge and fishing out… a portable coffee cup. Like, one of those ones with the straw you buy at Starbucks. Robbe suddenly wondered why he had never taken much interest in the blood drinking aspect of all of this. He was so caught up in Sander’s past and their ability to change temperature and suck blood that… the actual, most important part, the feeding of it all, was barely at the forefront of his mind. Until now. Now he was very confused as he eyed the cup that might as well be filled with coffee for all he knew.

“You’re serious?” He asked.

Sander had a very amused look on his face as he held it forward. Robbe took it in his hands and heard it sloshing around in the cup. A joke played on his tongue, _what if I hate the taste?_ But the burning in his throat overtook his need for humour. Sander leaned back against the fridge. Watching. Waiting. And everything disappeared as Robbe took a sip.

It was similar to water, actually, in the sense that the minute it hit his throat he felt the burning subside. Also similar was the fact that once he started, it was hard to stop as he gulped it down with desperation. He suddenly understood why Sander was always so much more energised after he was fed, because as Robbe drank it up, he could feel his insides thanking him, coming alive with every swallow. 

When the straw let out a whine, sucking at nothing, Robbe stopped. The burning was gone, he felt more centred, connected, alive. The irony.

When he lifted his head to look back up at Sander, who was still looking fed from Robbe’s blood two days ago, he had a different look in his eye. His eyes were the sort of green-black that signified he was fed but still had a level of _want_. Dark. Lusty. Robbe imagined he didn’t look much better off.

And there was that. The part he had thought about one too many times this past week. Robbe was about to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand when Sander was suddenly grabbing his wrist, stopping him. Robbe just stared as Sander trailed his thumb over Robbe’s chin, the crimson-colour seeping into his skin, and pushed it through Robbe’s lips. Robbe sucked on his finger with a look of intent, the entire lower half of his body on fire. 

Robbe had spent some time wondering how their sex would change with Robbe’s new-found vampirism, but he should have known there would be no way of truly knowing. It was like a dance. Two bodies gliding through the cottage, unable to make it anywhere near the bedroom, so they collapsed against the couch. They couldn’t stop kissing except to occasionally look at each other, take each other in, bathe in the other. Sander kept muttering _you’re so beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful, I love you_. And Robbe could hardly get a word out as he let various noises of pleasure whimper out of his mouth. 

“Robbe?” Sander breathed as Robbe straddled him, kissing down his chest.

“Mm?” Robbe managed to get out as his lips brushed over Sander’s hip bone.

“Bite me.”

Robbe froze. He managed to drag his eyes from Sander’s ribs to his face, and Sander was wearing a look of vulnerability that was new. Of course, Sander had been vulnerable many times before. But this, this was different. His hands were frozen at his sides, his pupils huge, his chest puffing in anticipation. He looked small, and in need of this, and a little nervous. Robbe leaned forward, elbows on either side of Sander’s shoulders, and trailed their noses together. Oh, Robbe wanted this. He hadn’t realized how much until now. 

Robbe placed a tender kiss against Sander’s swollen lips. “Okay. How?”

Sander let out a snort amidst his ragged breathing. “You’ll know,” He tilted his head to the side, exposing his perfectly pale neck without one single imperfection, apart from the two small moles sitting on his jugular, though Robbe could hardly call those imperfections. “Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Robbe breathed hot air against Sander’s neck, studying the icy thick skin. He couldn’t believe his teeth had the power to penetrate it, and yet, he was about to. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Sander replied, eyes fluttering shut as Robbe kissed the skin under his chin. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Robbe took one last breath, and then, he was biting.

It was a little strange at first, to be on the other end of it, but that quickly passed. Sander was right, he did know how. It was instinct. His fangs sank through Sander’s skin with ease and what followed was a rush of vampire blood soaking into his tongue. It tasted nothing like the human blood he had moments before this, but Lola had been right all of the months ago when she had told him that this… this was surely, absolutely, mainly for pleasure. And Sander was wonderfully pliant underneath him, making noises that Robbe had never heard before, soft, intense moans that had Robbe gripping the side of his jaw and holding on for dear life. Sander’s back arched in beautiful bliss and he gripped Robbe’s hips with his hands, not needing to hold back as he tightened his grip.

And when Robbe pulled back, they both breathed heavy together for a few minutes as Robbe sank his forehead into Sander’s chest. Two bite marks were now taking up space on Sander’s neck, and Robbe could not believe he had marked Sander. It was as if they had come full circle. No, not as if, they had. It was the final nail in the coffin, the bookend to a long line of give and take, both sides evening out. Sander gave Robbe everything he needed and more. And Robbe gave Sander everything he needed and more. And it was marked, documented, engraved in the marks they left on each other physically and emotionally. 

They didn’t stop there, because they didn’t need to. Sander flipped Robbe over once they had regained energy, and Sander sank his teeth into Robbe’s thigh. Robbe gasped, gripping Sander’s pale strands between his fingers as he couldn’t hold back his moans of deep, deep pleasure. It was pure bliss, better even, than when he was human. He wasn’t expecting that, he was expecting there to be a definite decrease considering the facts. But he was wrong. It was better because this was their forever. There was no end, no mark on a calendar, there was only this. 

And once they were done, the bliss continued. 

They had no plans to pack up and leave, in fact, they had no plans at all. Sander was determined to show Robbe anything and everything he had to learn about this new life, and Robbe took it all with what Sander called his “natural instinct”. Robbe thanked his human self for asking so many questions because he was finding the process rather easy. Although, he couldn’t help but think about how when Sander was turned he went into this blindly, as did the rest of the clan. Gratitude was not lost on him. Not only did he have all of the information he had learned since the day he met Sander, but he also had Sander. And their family. 

Robbe could not take his hands off of Sander. Which, sure, wasn’t anything new, but just like everything else, this was magnified. They spent their days trekking up the mountains, giving Robbe a chance to test out his vampire speed and instincts. They swam farther than the average human could and went fishing at 6am with no worry of being sleepy. Robbe realized how much Sander had been sleeping because Robbe was sleeping, because they spent many nights awake, tied up in each other. Robbe was actually the one to beat out Sander in staying awake, because Sander fell asleep after a day spent in the sun, and Robbe shortly followed.

One night, as the fire crackled in front of them and Robbe trailed his finger over the bite mark on his thigh, he felt a sudden spike of missing. The smell of the campfire and memory of Lola telling Robbe that vampires could bite vampires was making him oddly nostalgic.

Robbe heard the sharp whine of air that signified Sander dashing out of the cottage. One moment the seat beside Robbe was empty, and the next, Sander was throwing himself into it. Sander passed Robbe his cup of blood with a cheeky wink, and Robbe was still thinking about the clan, eyes dazed, so Sander frowned.

“You okay?” He asked, taking a sip of his own cup.

Robbe nodded. “I miss them.” 

Realization flashed through Sander’s eyes. “We can leave whenever you want.”

“I love it here,” Robbe pouted, conflicted. “But I love our apartment too.”

“Our?” Sander asked, cocking his head.

Robbe was still getting used to what Sander called ‘phantom feelings’. Meaning, right now, Robbe was sure a blush was rising to his cheeks, but given his new icy thick skin and vampire blood, he knew that wasn’t entirely possible. Embarrassment, though, that was possible.

“Yours,” Robbe quickly corrected himself. “Yours I mean yours-”

“Really, Robbe?” Sander said, face exploding into a shit-disturbing grin. 

“What?” Robbe asked, wanting to hear him say it.

“Get over here,” Sander waved his hand and eyed his lap. 

Robbe raised an eyebrow, suspicious. However, he still crawled into Sander’s lap and let his legs hang down on either side of the chair. Sander still had that grin on his face, resting his hands on Robbe’s hips and cocking his head.

“I have a question,” He asked.

“Yes?” Robbe asked.

“Will you move in with me?” 

“No.”

A laugh bellowed out of Sander, his head falling back and facing the stars. Robbe stood no chance of keeping his ‘serious’ face on against that, a snort escaping his own nose and shaking his head. When Sander lifted his head back up, his one eye was still half-shut, and Robbe knew exactly how happy that meant Sander was. 

“Please?” Sander mock-pouted, his thumb tracing circles on Robbe’s hip.

“Hmm,” Robbe thought. “What’s in it for me?”

“Wild sex,” Sander joked. “Every night.”

“I hear you’re a biter.”

“You into that?”

“I’m getting good at it myself.”

“Cheeky.”

“I want to decorate.”

That must have surprised Sander, his eyes widening. “Quick topic change, but alright. I feel oddly offended.”

“Because you want to keep talking about sex?”

“Because clearly you don’t like what I’ve done with the place.”

Robbe laughed, shaking his head. “No! Well, a little. Sander I own like, two things, I would just like to maybe find a place for them in your apartment-”

“No no,” Sander shook his head and closed his eyes, teasing. “We’re redecorating the entire thing simply for your pleasure.”

“You are insufferable.”

“This conversation is making me miss our apartment,” Sander’s eyes roamed to the lake behind Robbe’s head. “Perhaps we should-”

“You said ‘our’,” Robbe interrupted. 

“Yes, Robbe,” Sander said, eyes softening and hands cupping Robbe’s cheeks. “Ours.”

Robbe leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Let’s go home.”

“You’re right here.”

“You absolute romantic.”

That’s how they found themselves saying goodbye to the cottage the following day, promising to return for their annual Christmas break visit at the end of the year. The entire exchange had Robbe giddy with happiness, the realization that goodbyes were no longer a permanent thing in his life. At least, the goodbyes that were in his control. He was leaving a place that he loved so much to go to another, to see his family. And they would all return together in a few months. Home. 

But Robbe had one more pressing matter to deal with.

“Are they going to make it a big deal?” Robbe asked as they turned into the grassy pathway that led them to the mansion. Nerves were sitting heavy on Robbe’s chest and his excited bleached blonde boyfriend kept shooting him a jittery smile, fangs flashing signifying he did not match Robbe’s mood. 

“Who knows,” Sander smirked, pulling up to the front of the house and parking the car. 

Robbe didn’t move.

“Robbe,” Sander turned and leaned his elbow against the back of his seat. “Minute by minute-”

“Oh do not use that with me right now,” Robbe covered his face in his hands. “I’m nervous.”

“They already know we’re here, now we’re just being embarrassing,” Sander said.

Robbe didn’t love attention, this was very well known. He wished he could skip this part and fast forward to when the clan had already seen him and being a vampire was the new normal. This? This was agonizing. He knew Milan and he knew Milan well.

Robbe was brought out of his thoughts by a hand on his thigh. Robbe dropped his hands from his face to find the front door of the mansion opening and a flash of brown curls peeking her head out. Yasmina.

“See?” Sander waved at her. “Yasmina first, that’s not so bad?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Sander raised his hands in defense and dashed out of the car, appearing beside Robbe and opening the passenger door. He bowed and gestured with his hand for Robbe to get out, a shit disturbing grin on his face. Robbe would make him pay for that later, but for now he slowly crawled out of the car. He didn’t have long to wait, because suddenly a body was smashing into his, enveloping him in a strong but engulfing hug that took him a second to process. He couldn’t help the smile that twitched onto his face as Yasmina’s brown curls clogged his vision, and he hugged back with a giggle escaping from his mouth. Okay, this, this was fine.

Yasmina pulled back but kept her firm hands on his shoulders, looking at his face in calculated inspection. She grinned, white teeth flashing against her darker skin tone.

“Sander told us not to go overboard,” Yasmina said, and Robbe didn’t miss Sander winking from behind her. “But I couldn’t help it, I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me too,” Robbe replied. “Even if I’m going to be your test dummy for the next few weeks.” Robbe was certain Yasmina was itching to further her vampire studies, and with him still being in the new stages of this life, he was the perfect lab rat.

But Yasmina shook her head. “You’re going to join me with all of that, dummy.”

Robbe raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Yasmina nodded.

A warm feeling spread through Robbe’s chest, replacing all anxiety he had been feeling. He already knew he had a place within the clan, but knowing there was a way for him to be useful, and with something he already was so curious about and had so much fun studying… he was rendered speechless. 

Yasmina playfully shoved his shoulder and then crossed her arms. “Up to you, of course.”

Robbe opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Then finally, “You need me.”

Yasmina scoffed. “Hardly.”

“You do,” Robbe said louder, cocking his head. “You need me and my mad skills.”

“Have you checked your grades yet?” She asked. Welcoming-Yasmina was gone and replaced by her competitive side.

“I have.”

“And?”

“Not telling.”

“Tell me!”

They were brought out of their bickering by Noor and Lola skipping down the steps, both with wide smiles on their faces. Noor was first to reach Robbe and she had a similar approach to Yasmina, tightly wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing.

“Hey,” Robbe said into her ear, and when she pulled away she had an impressed look on her face.

“That hug would have killed human-you,” Noor said.

Lola nodded at him from behind her. “You’re looking good.”

“Oh yeah, there’s also that,” Noor stepped back and crossed her arms, looking between Robbe and Sander, who had decided to lean against the hood of the car and watch. “Someone’s well fed.”

Zoe was darting out of the mansion next, but instead of going to Robbe, she went straight to Sander and made a show of playfully leaning down and inspecting the bite marks on his neck. “Yup, there it is.”

“Why did we come home?” Sander groaned, head falling back to stare at the sky. “We could have stayed away longer, and yet-”

“Well well well,” Came a voice from the door.

Robbe tore his eyes away from Sander’s dramatics to see Milan leaning against the archway, a twinkle in his eye and a proud look on his face that almost sent Robbe to the ground. There was something about seeing him there, the leader, the one who started it all, that had Robbe feeling oddly emotional. The smile fell from his face, replaced by a heavy exhale and a silence that lingered. They stood there like this for a moment, the world disappearing around them, and something felt very final about it. Robbe was home. This was his family. And he was home.

One second Robbe was standing there, and the next he was in front of Milan, staring up at his eyes that had seen far too much, and he couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth, “Thank you.”

“Welcome home, Robbe.”

Robbe wrapped his arms around Milan’s middle and squeezed, hoping he was transmitting everything he wished he could say into the hug. _I’m sorry you lost Ivan all of those years ago. I know I could never replace him in this family, but I hope we can all heal together._

Sander was there next, hugging Milan from the other side and letting his hand rest on Robbe’s shoulder. Milan let out an almost embarrassed chuckle that sounded closer to a choke, and Robbe didn’t need to pull away to know that there were tears in his eyes. The others joined shortly after that in silent understanding. Somehow, Robbe’s welcome home day became more about Milan, and that was entirely how Robbe wanted it to be.

After all, none of them would be here without Milan. And Ivan. Their neverending empathy and ability to see the good was what created everything. Robbe couldn’t help but think about Britt, and Viktor, about the Ingel and De Smet hunter families who thrived off of chaos and had never known a true family a day in their lives. How Senne had found and chosen a different one, and how choices are everything.

Robbe liked his choices. 

\---

And here’s the thing.

Robbe would look back on the beginning to his new life and remember the fond memories. He would remember Milan’s ecstatic face when he hugged Robbe for the first time, and sinking his teeth into Sander’s neck, and applying to courses for the following year of college. He would remember Yasmina’s curls falling in front of her face as they worked away in the corner of the mansion, jotting down notes about vampirism and Zoe and Sander bringing them coffee spiked with blood. But laced within the very crevice of these memories was a healing process that might never go away. The scars were gone and replaced by his icy vampire skin, a thick protective layer that was his permanent reality. Past that layer was a whole lot of pain, and it would be an insult to all he had been through to pretend it wasn’t there. It was. Grief always comes back. 

But it was different now. 

Because he wasn’t running from it anymore.

Grief had a place in the clan as well. It was there in Milan’s eyes when he told a story about Ivan, or when Zoe’s eyes lingered on an old photograph of Senne. It was there when Sander came with Robbe to visit his mother’s grave for the first time since she had died, and they both shared a couple of tears as Robbe thanked his lucky stars that he had known her for the time that he had. He felt them everywhere. Ivan, Senne, his mother, his past. 

He felt them when he found the words to help Sander through it as well.

Sander didn’t have an easier time with it, this crushing fear of loss hanging around the corner. But he wasn’t supposed to. They had the occasional euphoric break from the panic; when Sander made the decision to turn Robbe into a vampire, when he talked with Milan on the balcony, when Robbe talked with Jens like nothing had changed. But euphoria passes, revealing what was always there, just quieter. And that can be damn annoying sometimes. It can feel like a delusion. 

Sander had spent the previous couple of days unable to get out of bed, so naturally, Robbe was right there with him, soothing his hair out of his face and watching him succumb to the sleep he needed when he was like this. Robbe waited for him to talk about it, but he already had an incline of what it was about, judging by the way Sander clung to Robbe and his face contorted into pain whenever Robbe got up to walk around the apartment. 

Sander finally spoke deep into the night a few days later, the moonlight hitting the middle of the bed and the two vampires laying facing each other.

“I feel so stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought I found a way to cope with this.”

“Remember what I said? About how we’ll never be comfortable with death? We’re not supposed to be.”

“But how do I stop thinking about it? It’s there in everything I do, just, this fear. It’s debilitating, Robbe.”

“Only sometimes it is.”

“But it’s always there.”

“Yes, sometimes it’s worse than other times. Sometimes it’s going to take you down, and sometimes you’re going to say ‘fuck you’. I love you either way.”

“I wish I could shut my brain off.”

“So do I, sometimes. That’s usually when I would go do something a little dangerous, to turn it all off. And then I met you.”

“I’m something dangerous?”

“A bit, but there’s something else.”

“What?”

“You turn it all off.”

“Oh.”

“You make it quieter, and maybe that’s all we can ask for.”

“Perhaps it’s time for us to be quiet. For a bit.”

“Yes, perhaps it is.”

“And then tomorrow we’ll go cliff diving.”

“I’d like that.”

And the following day, they stood up on the cliffs, watching the water crash against the stony walls, the water that Robbe had once been drowning in. Robbe felt a familiar feeling wash over him; adrenaline. It had always been a battle, adrenaline vs. logic. He was happy the latter lost out. 

“I’ll go first.” 

Robbe stepped back in preparation to make the jump, but Sander laced his fingers through his and squeezed.

“You and me.”

And then they jumped.

END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to be making a master post for everything that was made for this fic. edits, headers, all that good stuff.
> 
> thank you all for being here with me. 
> 
> this is incredibly hard for me to let go of, hence why it took me so long to post this epilogue. when i feel up to it i might write some one shots for this fic, missing scenes or future stuff. if you have any suggestions or prompts please hit me up on tumblr!
> 
> again, thank you. i can't say that enough. thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bem672rSxhE
> 
> GIFSETS:
> 
> https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/619878235257389056/paint-me-in-trust-by-themoongirl-updates-every
> 
> https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/620385211079884800/paint-me-in-trust-chapter-four-favorite-quotes
> 
> ANDI'S NETFLIX GIFSET:
> 
> https://evenbechnaesheim.tumblr.com/post/620917253138956288/paint-me-in-trust-created-by-dearsander-now
> 
> INSTAGRAM:@paintme.intrust
> 
> A LOOK AT SANDER'S INSTAGRAM: https://sekoui.tumblr.com/post/620598177677099008/paint-me-in-trust-by-dearsander-official
> 
> my tumblrs:
> 
> writing blog: dearsander  
> main blog: dearrobbe


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